Our Wedding Anniversary Is Wrong, Unexpectedly
by GenericOregairuFan
Summary: It's the fifteenth anniversary of Hayama Yukino and Hayama Hayato's wedding, and the celebrations are progressing smoothly. That is, until an unexpected guest arrives, claiming he was invited. Someone they haven't spoken to for many, many years...
1. Chapter 1

**Our Wedding Anniversary Is Wrong, Unexpectedly**

 **Chapter One:**

Fifteen years.

A great number of things can happen in fifteen years. Cities can change. Countries can adapt. Nations can transform.

Nothing is permanent, after all. Take Japan as an example: on the eve of 1938, it was a global superpower. A military machine, with hundreds of soldiers and warships and fighter planes providing the cogs that kept it turning. It seemed to be inexplicably linked with the notion of progress. It also seemed that very little could've prevented it from continuing its pursuit of this notion.

A mere 7 years later, and Japan was in ruins.

Almost everything in the world is transient. Empires can fall in the blink of an eye. Mountains can crumble with the click of a finger. If things of such enormity have little bearing on the power of time, then where does that leave human beings? We are just apes that, on the whim of evolution, decided it would be fun to start a civilisation. Our emotions are fleeting. A pessimist would claim that happiness is not really happiness at all, or at least not in the sense that most would perceive it. Those who claim themselves to be happy are just satisfied, or content, they would say. Happiness is just an ideal, they would say.

If someone asked them, Hayama Yukino and Hayama Hayato would undoubtedly say that they were happy.

But truth, like everything else, is relative. And words have an uncanny ability to be misleading.

* * *

In an upper class district of Tokyo, the capital city of Japan, there is a mansion.

There are lots of mansions in this area of this city, but this one is particularly eye-catching simply because of its exuberance. It looks grand enough to be the product of someone's overactive imagination, or a particularly bizarre fever dream. It has a large metallic gate, that opens up onto a dirt pathway, that in turn leads up to the front doors. These front doors are huge, and if anything closer resemble the entrance to a medieval castle than they do a house plausible for someone to live in. The architecture is incredibly indulgent; no doubt the person commissioned to design it was paid handsomely. It has a large garden surrounding it, with grass that is trimmed regularly by the staff and a small hedge maze at the back. Children would probably love to play in it.

It's almost a little too perfect to be true.

On the 26th of November, on a chilly evening, it is illuminated by lots of bright, shining outdoor lanterns. The stars above only add to the almost ethereal effect. There is a banner strung up across the threshold- it reads as follows.

'Happy 15th Anniversary Hayama Hayato and Hayama Yukino!'

There are about five or six cars lined up around the front drive. The dirt pathway runs up a hill from the gates, so a passerby would have to crane their neck up a little to see the mansion in all its glory from the pavement, which is about a hundred yards away.

All the guests of the party have arrived.

Supposedly.

Inside the mansion, there are too many rooms to count on a single person's hands. In other words, far too many rooms than is necessary. But, a few of them will be put to good use tonight, what with more people staying over than usual. The front hall has four rooms directly attached to it, as well as a swirling staircase that, should one use it, would take you up to the other two floors of the mansion. On your second right is the living room. This is where everyone is congregating.

There are seven people in the room. Hayama Yukino. Hayama Hayato. Miyaozo Yui. Miyaozo Kaito. Yukinoshita Haruno. Yukinoshita Aia. Hayama Emiko.

They are currently sat on the sofas of the room, enjoying each other's company and revelling in the cordial atmosphere. Hayama Yukino is dilligently serving wine. The Miyaozo's are recounting the story of their latest gig.

"Oh, it was absolutely amazing!" Yui babbles, lavishing hyperbole on the event. "I mean... they're all amazing _,_ of course. Our fans are so kind and encouraging..."

She sighs in apparent bliss. She has already had a few glasses of wine.

The other occupants of the room glance at each other for a moment, wondering if she intends to continue. Her husband, Miyaozo Kaito, who is also the J-pop singer's guitarist, nudges her a little.

"Yui, the story?" he prompts.

"Oh!" she exclaims loudly. "Sorry!"

Yukino almost drops the wine bottle, and glares at her old friend. "Your concentration levels are just as fleeting as usual, I see."

Yui sticks out her tongue in an impeccable display of immaturity. "Meanie."

Everyone in the room chuckles at their usual antics. Well, except for the matriarch of the Yukinoshitas.

She'd hoped that her daughter's 15th wedding anniversary would be a little less... informal. Usually, she and her daughter, Haruno, team up to ensure that the event is a lavish, no expenses spared kind of affair. They invite all their usual business associates and rub their egos accordingly, while she boasts of the beauty that her two daughters possess. They'd received good genes, after all. She may be nearing the end of her fifties, but can still pass in a well cut dress.

But her youngest daughter, Yukino, has never quite been as submissive as she would've hoped. Haruno, as far as the matriarch is concerned, is the epitome of what a woman should be. Attractive. Witty. Amusing. Yukino is beautiful, yes, and witty, yes, but rather too brash and blunt. During her adolescence, they'd had numerous spats, laced with bitterness and antagonism. The matriarch had won out, of course, but the insolence of her daughter had not been forgotten.

She sips her wine. It is a shame, she thinks, that her husband could not attend. Him and the father of their closest ally in the corporate world, the Hayamas, were preoccupied with dietary matters. However, she can take solace in the fact that one of the only women she'd ever consider as a friend, Hayama Emiko, managed to free up her schedule. They attended the same high school together, and have always retained the strength of their bond. They'd married well. They'd lived satisfying, successful lives.

They share a glance.

The two women also have similar stances on parenting.

"Yukino darling," Hayama Hayato says, a broad smile on his face. "Come and sit down! You should be enjoying our anniversary."

"I am merely exercising my duties as the host dear," she replies, picking up the bottle once more.

"Yes, but everyone's already had a couple of glasses." He sends a teasing glance to Yui. "Some of us more than others."

"Hey!" she protests.

"Regardless Hayato," Yukino says, her voice smooth, "It is expected that we should be hospitable."

"But on our _anniversary-"_

"I'm inclined to agree with your wife here," Hayama Emiko intercepts. She once had hair as blonde as her son, but now, it is fading to grey like autumn to winter. "Let her serve the wine."

Hayama Hayato looks like he intends to protest further, but the unflinching stare of his mother seems to dissuade him.

"Alright."

Sensing the burst of momentary discomfort, Yui coughs.

"S- so how's your job going, Hayato?"

"Very well!' he says, smile returning. "You've probably heard already, but my father recently arranged my promotion to the executive board."

"That's wonderful, Hayato," Yukinoshita Aia says. She knew already, but it never hurt to be civil.

"Yes," he replies. "I've heard we're also lining up a potential deal with an industrial centre in Chiba."

"Chiba! How long has it been since we lived there, Yui?" Miyaozo Kaito sits back on the cofa, a nostalgic expression creeping onto his face.

"Chiba? Well... that must've been, like, five or six years!"

"Longer for us."

Kaito turns to Yukino. "Oh yes. You and Hayama moved to Tokyo a little while after you graduated from university, didn't you?"

Hayama nods. "Three years afterwards, so... oh God."

Yukino looks at her husband, eyebrows narrowed. "What, dear?"

He shakes his head. "Nothing darling, it's just... that was twelve years ago." He reaches forward and takes her slender fingers in his own. "I've been married to the woman I love for fifteen years. How lucky am I?"

A light flush arrives on the usually unflappable Yukino's cheeks. "Please refrain from such nauseating sentiment."

"It's not sentiment if it's true, darling. You look just as beautiful as the day we met."

The room practically swoons, only adding to her embarassment.

"T- that would be when we were children! Please think before expressing such potentially perverted-"

"Typical Yukino, unable to take a compliment."

Heads twist to Yukinoshita Haruno, who so far has been strangely quiet. She is wearing a tight red dress that clutches her figure in all the expected places.

"On the contrary Nee-san," Yukino retorts. "I'm perfectly capable of taking a compliment. Only when said compliment is made at an inappropriate time do I-"

"An inappropriate time!" Haruno laughs, raising her glass to her lips, which are adorned with rosy lipstick. "This is your wedding anniversary, little imouto! Surely now is more appropriate than ever."

She rolls her eyes. "Must you always be difficult, Nee-san?"

"Of course, _darling._ I relish in it."

"Now girls..."

The Yukinoshita matriarch sends them both a warning glare, but only Yukino is there to receive it. Haruno has returned to staring at the window.

"Are you feeling alright, Haruno?" Aia continues. "You're not usually so... absent."

The elder daughter's head snaps back to attention. "Oh, don't worry about me mother! I'm just _so_ overwhelmed with joy for my younger sister's marrital success." She raises her now half full glass above her head. "I suggest a toast, everyone! To fifteen long years!"

They all follow suit. "To fifteen years!"

"And..." Haruno adds, "To the future."

They drink.

The conversation continues in a similar vein. Yukino and Hayama had insisted that the milestone in their marriage be celebrated only with their closest friends and kin, so there are no troublesome distant relatives that might scupper the mood. There is plenty to discuss, with plenty of sniping jokes (many of them provided by the Yukinoshita sisters) to follow, and a serving of reminiscence alongside it.

Time passes by quickly, and all of a sudden, Yukinoshita Aia stands.

"Yukino, when I arrived, did you not mention that you'd had some alterations made to the guest rooms upstairs?"

"Yes mother, but can we not wait until to-"

"Oh nonsense dearest, you must show me right away! You know I have a passion for such matters."

"... Yes mother."

Haruno downs the rest of her wine. "I think I'd like to see them too, little imouto."

As the Yukinoshitas and Hayama Emiko make their way upstairs, Hayato makes use of his blinding smile once more. "Y'know, sometimes I forget that Kaito and you have been married almost as long as we have! Are things still going well?"

Yui nods enthusiastically. "Oh yes, the band are still going strong."

"I wasn't asking about the band. I was asking about you."

She looks a little taken back. "Oh... well..."

She hesitates.

"I mean... with how much time we have to spend in the studio, I don't think-"

"She means to say that things are fine," Kaito interrupts. "Work can be a little trying at times, but we're still very happy."

He slips his hand onto the small of her back, and they smile.

"That's great to hear-"

Suddenly, the door knocks.

All three of them look up in surprise.

"That's a little odd," Hayato says eventually. "I thought everyone had already arrived."

"You didn't invite any other guests, did you?" Kaito asks.

"No..."

The door knocks again.

Kaito clicks his fingers. "Oh, I know! I bet it will be your father in law, Hayato. Aia mentioned that he might be able to get out of the meeting a little early for your anniversary." He gets to his feet. "I'll go and get the door, shall I?"

Hayato nods, and he heads out into the hallway.

Kaito doesn't like to drink. He quit alcohol a couple of years ago, so nearly always has the pleasure of being the only one sober at a party. As he reaches towards the door handle, a twinge of annoyance tugs at his side. He'd insisted to Yui recently that she follow his example on the matter.

Nonetheless, he pulls the door aside, expecting to see the familiar face of Yukino's father.

Instead, he sees a pair of rotten, dead fish eyes staring back at him.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Cheers for all your support on the first chapter. It motivated me to get writing again as soon as possible, so feel free to review with any thoughts/comments on the chapter, even if they're negative. I'm not one of those super sensitive guys who can't take criticism.**

 **Here's the second chapter. And btw, addressing the guest reviewer Yonko, any similarities between this and N00BWR1TER's story were unintentional on my part, but I can see where you're coming from. And soz to Quotable Paella if you think the premise is cliche, but I think you'll find the rest of your story will extend beyond your expectations. Hopefully anyway.**

 **If anyone's interested, my preliminary plans suggest the chapter will be about 15-20 chapters. That's not set in stone so you can give or take a few, but it serves as a pretty good indication of general length on paper. I might get some ideas or introduce some new charaters, so who knows?**

* * *

 **Our Wedding Anniversary Is Wrong, Unexpectedly**

 **Chapter Two:**

For a moment, all that the two men do is look at each other.

Their appearances couldn't really be any more contrasting. Miyaozo Kaito has always been a fashionable man, ever since high school. He was bore in an upper class family that had more than enough money to spoil their 'little angel', and his clothing reflected this accordingly. It was around university that he began to take an interest in musicianship. Influenced by a plethora of Western and Japanese guitarists, he chose to follow in their footsteps, copying their hairstyles, their sense of clothing.

Five years after graduating from university, he met Yui while playing a gig with his band in a downtown bar. They'd immediately got along due to their mutual adoration for music, and when he discovered her singing talent during a karaoke night, he persuaded her to join his band as their lead vocalist.

The rest, as they say, is history.

Now an adult, he has outgrown the urge to merely imitate his predecessors. Now, he is older. Wiser. More mature. He's had a hair cut, and the majority of his facial hair removed. Their mainstream success has allowed them to purchase a house nearby the Hayama's mansion, which is only a little less extravagant. His suit for the occasion is a stylish navy blue pin-stripe, tailored to perfection, with patent leather shoes. The tattooed symbol of the band Led Zeppelin can be seen creeping up his right shoulder, past the collar of his shirt.

The man on the threshold, however, has none of his richer counterpart's apparent style. His clothes seem as if they are worn regularly, and the creases in the tweed blazer suggests it was hastily picked off a bedroom floor. There is a small but noticeable coffee stain on the knee of his right trouser leg. It would be harsh to describe his brown suit as tacky, but it certainly couldn't be described as expensive.

Despite the fact this man is younger than Kaito, his appearance gives the impression of age. There is a thin layer of stubble on his cheeks, indicating a blatant negligence of shaving. His posture is ever so slightly hunched. And those eyes...

Kaito looks away. Something in those thinned pupils is frightfully intimidating. As if the one they belonged to were a living, breathing corpse.

"Can I help you?"

The man on the threshold, Kaito thinks, has the expression of a top class poker player.

"I'm here for Yukinoshita Yuki- Hayama Yukino's wedding anniversary," says the man.

His voice matches his face in its monotony.

Kaito's eyebrows rise. This seems to him extremely unlikely. He's been a friend of Yukino and Hayama ever since meeting Yui- the blonde has always been surrounded by admirers, but Yukino's more introspective personality means she only has a few people who she is truly close to. If this man was one of them, they would surely have met at a previous party or social event. He glances over the man's shoulder to see his car parked just behind. It's a very small and very old Toyota model, and looks decidedly out place between his and Hayama's sportscars.

Having said that... he knew Yukino's name before she got married, and Kaito is struggling to shake the feeling that this man's face is vaguely familiar.

"Do you have an invitation?" he asks doubtfully.

To his surprise, the man reaches into an inside pocket of his blazer and produces a white envelope. In the bathing light of the outdoor lanterns, he can clearly see Hayato and Yukino's signature and the Yukinoshita family seal. It is the very same letter that he and Yui received themselves in the post.

Now, he is thoroughly confused.

"... Have we met? I could've sworn I've seen your face before."

"I highly doubt that."

"What's your name?"

His expression shifts to one of vague irritation. "Do you always interrogate a guest before letting them in?"

Kaito's eyes narrowed. Call it natural prejudice, but he's already decided that he dislikes this man. Perhaps it's easy to jump to that conclusion, what with those eyes, but... he reminds him of those antisocial, shut-in otakus that he had to tolerate in university.

"Would _you_ let a strange man into your friend's house if you didn't even know their name?"

The man rolls his eyes. "It's Hikigaya Hachiman. I knew your friends at high school. You happy?"

 _... Oh._

From nowhere, Kaito has a recollection of crouching on his knees, surrounded by dust and age. In their old semi-detached house, before they'd moved into their friend's district, before they'd hit the peak of their success, they'd had an old loft. It was inhabited by the usual suspects; moth-eaten furniture, lampshades from how many decades ago, souvenirs of their youth. And photographs. In a box, right at the back, beneath a dense layer of cobwebs, there had been a collection of photographs.

He can't even recall why he was in the loft, or why he felt the need to sort through the box. Humans are animals propelled by their impulses, after all. While navigating forgotten memories of university, of the early band sessions him and Yuigahama had organised together, of birthday parties and holidays, he'd unearthed a cracked glass frame from the very bottom of the box. The photo's resolution was poor, but the faces held within were clear nonetheless.

Hayama Yukino stood to the right. Miyaozo Yui stood to the left. And a strange man, or rather teenager, sat between them, glancing away from the camera awkwardly. All three of them were wearing the uniform of whatever high school they'd once attended.

He never asked Yui about the photograph. She's never spoken to him about her highschool days before, and though his curiosity had been almost palpable, he'd refrained out of fear of reopening olds wounds. Not that there necessarily _had_ been old wounds. Her silence meant he had no way of knowing.

"Which high school was it?" he questioned, still feeling apprehensive.

"Sobu High, Chiba. It was a shit hole. Now, _please_ can I come in? It's freezing out here," the so-called Hachiman intones.

"... I suppose so."

Pushing away his doubts, Kaito steps aside, granting him a view of the hallway. "Come in, Hikigaya-san."

Hachiman grunts and steps inside. There is dirt on the soles of his shoes, which he scrapes off on the unusually large doormat. Kaito moves past him.

"If you don't mind, I'd like you to stay here for a moment," he tells the man. "Hayama went to the same high school as Yukino, so he'll know if you're telling the truth about the invitation."

"I _showed_ you my invitation-"

"It doesn't hurt to check."

Hachiman's eyes narrow. Kaito feels a burst of discomfort. The man's unflinching stare is the kind that seems to dig into your soul, ripping you apart layer by layer.

Eventually, he crosses his arms, giving Kaito his silent assent. The guitarist swiftly turns and re-enters the living room, where he, Hayama and Yui were sitting.

Yui is on her third wine. Hayama stands up when Kaito comes back into his line of sight.

"Well?' he says. "If it's my father in law, why don't you show him in-"

"It's not your father in law."

Hayama looks surprised, and a little impatient. "Then who is it? I'd rather not have any interruptions on our anniversary."

Kaito scratches the back of his head uncertainly. "He says he was invited."

"But we didn't invite anyone else."

"I know. That's why I'm confused."

"Does he have a name?"

Kaito hesitates, glancing at his wife, who is listening attentively. He's highly conscious of ruining the mood. If there's history between his wife and this Hachiman, then he'd rather keep her oblivious of his presence.

"H- he says that he's an old friend. Is there any chance that Yukino sent another invitation without you knowing-"

"No _._ She would've told me. What's his name?"

Kaito remains silent.

"If he isn't willing to give you a name, then he clearly isn't an old friend of ours," Hayama tells him. "Would you go and tell him to- actually, no. I'll go and tell him to leave myself-"

"Hikigaya Hachiman."

CRASH

Kaito looks on uneasily. His wife has dropped her wine glass, and the shards pool around the bottom hem of her dress. She's still sat down, but her eyes have dilated impossibly wide.

"D- did you say Hikigaya Hachiman?"

"Yes. Hikigaya Hachiman."

Yui looks down. "Hikki..." she whispers, almost to herself.

Kaito glances at Hayama, regretting even allowing the stranger to enter. "Do you know him?"

Hayama's countenance is just as shocked. "Yes..."

He inhales deeply. "Why is he here?"

"He says he was invited," Kaito repeats. "He even had the same envelope you sent us."

A tense silence falls over the room, as if induced by a spell. Kaito shifts. Now, he is absolutely certain that there _were_ old wounds, and that he has unintentionally sliced them open like a knife through butter.

Abruptly, Hayama begins to walk towards the front hall. "I'll go and talk to him."

He leaves. Kaito and his wife are now alone.

Quickly, he dashes over and takes a seat by her side. He lifts her chin so that she is looking at him. Her face looks stunned, and her puffy cheeks are ever so slightly flushed, though whether this is from the inebriating wine or the arrival of the stranger, he can't tell.

"Who is this Hachiman guy?" he demands.

She doesn't seem to hear him.

"Did you know him from Sobu High?"

"Sobu High..."

Kaito suddenly feels angry. Why does she have to be half drunk, now of all times?

"Please tell me, Yui."

He plants the briefest of butterly kisses on her lips, hoping it will reassure and placate her. It ends up doing anything but. Without warning, Yui is on her feet, moonlight blue dress trailing behind her, running out into the hallway.

"Wait!"

He fails to reach her in time. He watches helplessly as his wife turns to the left, allowing her to see Hachiman and Hayama, who are obscurred to Kaito by the frame of the door.

Her mouth drops open. "Hikki..."

From out of sight, Kaito hears Hachiman's response.

"Yo."

* * *

Upstairs, Hayama Yukino is showing her mother, mother in law and sister the recently improved guestrooms.

"This is the final one," she says.

They step into the room. When they first moved in, the majority of the rooms had possessed staggeringly little in the way of individuality. They all had the same tasteless white and bumpy wallpaper; a testimont to the poor taste of the previous owners, who Yukino and Hayama had only met briefly before paying for the move. This one, for example, would've been difficult to differentiate from the dozens of others in the mansions, what with the centralised bed, the marble (or at the very least faux marble) sink in the corner and the imported mahogany bedside dresser.

Yukino hadn't had much of a say in the choice of the mansion. She hadn't worked fulltime since leaving university.

To make up for her lack of input, Hayama had allowed her to have full freedom in terms of future renovation choices. As a result, the new alterations made to the guest rooms were all her own. The wallpaper had been replaced with what she'd thought to be a lovely shade of turqoise blue. The wooden floors had been replaced with fluffy grey carpet, which was soft and warm to the touch, like the pelt of a pedigree cat. Perhaps this similarity had played a part in her selection. Overall, she couldn't be much more satisfied with the changes.

She hadn't been especially eager to show her mother and mother in law, though. She knew better than anyone the sting of their overly critical stares. While Yukino had been giving them the tour, often providing brief explanations of her choices, they'd remained eerily silent, as if they were merely ghosts. Fading imprints of people who'd once been happy.

"So?" she said, trying to retain her voice's regular frostiness. "Have you any comments?"

Yukinoshita Aia and Hayama Emiko share a glance.

"... I like the carpet, at least," her mother replies.

Yukino clenches her fist.

She feels her sister, Haruno, place curling fingers on her thin shoulder blades. "Awww, don't worry little imouto!" she croons, voice full of patronising tease. "I think they look _great."_

Yukino feels a sudden, unexpected, almost overwhelming desire to turn around and shove her Nee-san away. Haruno's always been superb at getting under her skin. She knows exactly the right words to choose for exactly the right situation- she can enchant the most solemn of politicians with her beguiling charms, so how simple must it be to mock her uptight 'little imouto'? Simple enough to make a habit of doing so. Yukino can barely remember a time when her sister wasn't whispering in her ear, or making a fool of her in public, or teasing her in front of the few friends she'd somehow managed to cultivate.

Yukino isn't in the mood for it tonight. Not on her anniversary.

Then again, when has she _ever_ been in the mood for it?

"Would it be such a challenge to act like adults, girls?"

Her mother appears to have developed a sixth sense for when her youngest daughter's frustration reaches boiling point.

Haruno grins. Yukino scowls.

"My apologies, mothe-"

The sound of footsteps, dashing up the stairs and then along the hallway, interrupts her. Footsteps so fast they indicated the one who'd caused them was running. Urgently. And towards them.

Yukino frowns, and walks back out of the room. To her shock, she is greeted by the sight of Miyaozo Yui, just before she ducks into a nearby bathroom, hand on her stomach. She thinks for certain her eyes had been puffy.

"Yui?" she calls out, concerned. She walks over, as quickly as her high heels can compensate.

If she'd glanced behind her, she would've seen Haruno's face contorting with a smile. Not the smile she used for social events, or in public. Her true, genuine smile. The one only a select few ever had the priviledge of witnessing.

When Yukino reaches the bathroom door handle, she hesitates, wondering whether if it would be appropriate to intrude. Pushing aside her indecision, she twists it and peers through the door frame, which is hanging ajar.

"Yui-"

Her friend is on her knees, face ashen. She is vomiting into the toilet bowl. Her eyes, usually so full of light and life, are scrunched tightly together.

"Yui!" she gasps, kneeling down beside her. "What on earth is the matter?"

She draws circles on Yui's back as she throws up the remnants of their earlier meal, before handing her a strip of toilet of paper to wipe her dirtied lips. Concern and disbelief consumes her. She hasn't seen her friend so desolate since...

"H- has something happened?" Yukino asks, finally rummaging up the courage to break the pregnant silence.

Yui looked up at her. A single tear is falling down her cheek, like morning dew from the branches of a tree.

"Hikki's here."

"... What?"

Yui whimpers, and pulls her friend from high school into a broken, desperate embrace.

"Hikki's here! He's in the hallway!"

Yukino feels as if she's fallen into the shadowed depths of a chasm, with no means of escape.

"He came for your anniversary, Yukinon..."


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: Thanks again for your responses to the second chapter. It's nice to see the story seems to be generating a bit of discussion and enthusiasm- that's all you want as a writer, really, so make sure you keeping reviewing and such. Even if some of it was about whether NTR is a trash fetish or not, lol. No comment.**

 **And to the people calling for that... well, you'll just have to wait and see, I suppose.**

 **Also, here's a quick word of warning: you've probably got the impression already that the story's gonna be kinda depressing. That's a bit of an understatement, tbh. If you're cool to stick with a story like that, then carry on reading, but you've been warned. Oh, and there's one use of bad language in this chapter, but nothing major.**

* * *

 **Our Wedding Anniversary Is Wrong, Unexpectedly**

 **Chapter Three:**

Yukino is leaning with her back against the wall, just to the right of the staircase. Those in the front hallway are unable to see her from this angle. Her fingers are intertwining with each other, weaving in and out like sewn fabric, gently pulling at the sides of her dress. She always does this when she is nervous.

She's hiding from the three men downstairs.

Hiding in her own home.

It's so pathetic that she almost wants to cry, as freely and as openly as Yuigahama had to her only a few minutes before, in the bathroom. Her emotions are running riot in her stomach. Her heart is such a stammering mess that she can't quite discern _what_ she is feeling- only that she is feeling.

It's better than feeling nothing, which is the normality. Mostly, she's just confused. First, it was confusion about why Yuigahama was upset, then it was confusion at the extremity of her reaction, and then it was confusion as to why... why he was here. Why Hikigaya Hachiman, a man she hadn't so much as seen a fleeting glimpse of fifteen years, had arrived unannounced for her wedding anniversary, and why he'd had an invitation and a hundred other questions on top of that.

Her mother and mother in law had taken Yuigahama into one of the new guest rooms to help her calm down, instructing Yukino to go downstairs and assist Hayato in dealing with the 'mess', as they'd called it. It could well have been her imagination, but Yukino got the slightest impression her mother was indirectly calling it _her_ mess.

She's been standing here, doing nothing, for almost five minutes now.

Slowly, the door on her right where her best friend had disappeared into opened once more. Yukinoshita Haruno stepped out, looking strangely pleased with herself.

"Gahama-chan's almost stopped crying now," she states matter of factly, not sounding very interested in what she's saying.

Yukino doesn't meet her sister's eyes. "That's good," she replies robotically.

Haruno takes a step closer. "Are you thinking about Hachiman?"

Yukino still doesn't look up. She can tell that her Nee-san will be smirking. Her tone is bordering on smug.

"Then again, that's not really unusual, is it? You've been thinking about Hachiman for fifteen years."

Nothing. Not a single word from the proclaimed Ice Queen.

She seems rather more like a servant than a queen.

Haruno clicks her tongue, as if disappointed. "Aren't you going downstairs? Mother told you to, after all. And you _have_ been planning out what you'd say to him if you ever met again-"

"Why do you always..."

She can imagine that her sister's smirk has grown. "Why do I always do what, little imouto?"

"Why do you always insist on ruining my life?"

It might seem defiant, but articulated by a woman whose voice is quivering with broken solemnity, with weeks upon weeks of despondency... it sounds more like the final plea of a condemned prisoner before walking up to the gallows.

"Ruining your life, hm? I don't recall ever doing th-"

"All my life... all my life, I only ever did what you and mother and father wanted me to do. Even when I didn't, I felt guilty, because I knew deep down that I was disappointing you. I always wanted to make you proud. Especially you, Nee-san... when I was younger, anyway. I used to think you were wonderful."

She shakes her head. "Now, I..."

"Now what, Yukino?" Haruno replies, without breaking stride.

"... Now, I really think that I hate you, Nee-san."

A small pause.

"It took you long enough to be honest, but better late then never, right little imouto? But I wouldn't expect a heartfelt apology anytime soon. Being a victim doesn't make you deserving of pity. It just makes you weak."

Yukino finally raises her head. For the first time, the slightest spark of resistance can be seen, glimmering in her blue irises and burning a trail through their icy depths, melting all that it touches.

"I wasn't expecting your _pity,_ Haruno, nor did I desire it. If I'm weak, then it's because you made me weak."

"What a ridiculous idea, Yukino! You could easily have stood up for yourself-"

"No. I couldn't. You never gave me that option. Not you, or Aia."

She breathes in.

"B- but if I am weak... then for once, I want to be strong."

Yukino turns away from her sister and her attention settles on the staircase. Never has walking down those steps been such an intimidating prospect.

Shoving away her turmoil, she begins the descent. Haruno watches her, a look in her eyes one could liken to a cat playing with a stunned mouse.

"Y'know, little imouto... for a moment there, I thought you sounded a little like Hachiman."

Yukino doesn't have to ignore her sister's pestering this time. Though her legs continue moving, her mind has left her body at the sight before her. Almost sub-consciously, she begins to pick up on the words being spoken by the three man in the hallway.

"- I want you to leave. Pick up your damn coat, get back in your car and leave."

"Now, come on Kaito. You can't order a guest to leave _my_ house-"

"For once in your life Hayato, would you take someone's side and stop playing peacemaker!? I can't believe you're not supporting me on this-"

"Kaito-"

"No, listen to me. This guy comes in here, disrupts your anniversary and he makes my wife fucking cry, and you're actually going to just pass it off-"

"For your information, I did not "make" Yuigahama cry. All I did was say yo, and she decided that was some sort've personal insult-"

"Her name is _Miyaozo Yui,_ you little-"

"Hikigaya-san..."

It's his voice.

He's really standing in front of her. Just a few feet away.

After all this time, he's barely changed. She probably should've expected it. His face is virtually unblemished from the passing of all those endless hours, except for the layer of developing stubble on his chin and around his neck. She thinks it makes him appear a little more assured. A little more masculine. He still isn't muscled (like Hikigaya Hachiman would even _consider_ setting foot in a gym, as her husband has made a habit of), but his shoulders have broadened out and he's an awful lot taller. He'd dwarfed her even at Sobu High. His hair is just as scraggily as it used to be, like the sharpened thistles of a thorn bush, untamed and unruly.

Their eyes meet. Yukino's eyes are wide, and her breath is coming out fast and shallow. She's close to hyperventilating. Silence. She can sense Haruno and Hayato and Kaito's gazes strained on her back. It might've made her uncomfortable, but the only thing in the world in this small, perfect, glistening moment is Hikigaya Hachiman.

He has to swallow uncomfortably before mustering anything out.

"Yo," he says, for the second time that evening.

Yukino takes a step forward. She feels the need to touch him. To brush her fingers over that line of stubble. To feel the width of his frame. She only needs confirmation. If this is just a figment of her imagination, she'll thinks that she'll probably die where she stands.

"I- is it really you?"

"... Yeah. It's me, Yukino."

Unsure of what to do with herself, Yukino reaches out her hand, hoping to do as she'd wished to do for so, so long and touch him. She's intercepted by her husband, who pulls her closer to his side. Hayato is openly staring at her now. If she cared about anything except for the reunion transpiring before her, she'd notice that his other hand is clenched tightly together and a vein in his forehead is pulsing, writhing like a cornered snake.

"I... I missed you, Hikigaya-san."

"... Well, I'm not sure if I-"

"Hayato, dear," Haruno interrupts, making her presence known to Hachiman. "I don't think you or Yukino are in the right- let's see- _frame of mind_ to deal with this right now. How about I go and pour our guest a glass of wine? Kaito can go and check on Gahama-chan-"

"Oh, so we're just gonna let him in now, are we? Make him feel at home-"

"Kaito can go and check on Gahama-chan, and you and your wife can go and have a chat, hm?" she says, in a tone that leaves little to be argued with.

Hayato just stares at her. Is there a hint of hatred, there in his expression?

"Actually, I'm starting to agree with Kaito here," he replies, as measuredly as possible. "This is my house. My- our anniversary. I think I can choose-"

But Haruno is already reaching forward and taking a hold of Hachiman's sleeve, dragging him back towards the living room. "Sorry Hayato, but I just can't allow that kind of treatment to guests in anyone's house. It must've been a long journey from Chiba. The least our old friend deserves is a bit of hospitality."

"Haruno, listen to me-"

For the door to the living room has already been slammed shut, with Haruno and Hachiman on the opposite side.

* * *

Hikigaya Hachiman has always detested emotions, ever since leaving middle school. Was there ever something as troublesome and complicating as the human heart? Our sentiments and our feelings are supposed to be what set homo sapiens above are "inferior" primates in the forests and jungles, but he thinks the human race would be a step close to perfection if they were just impassive. An apathetic member of a pack will always have a greater chance of personal survival if he has no close ties or connections.

He'd once aspired to be like that. The lone wolf, going against expectation and status quo, living only for himself.

Growing up, and the people he met whilst growing up, changed that aspiration. Now, he can't really say that he aspires to anything.

Although, perhaps he does have one aspiration: distance himself from Yukinoshita Haruno as much as possible. He'd done that proficiently for fifteen years until tonight.

The woman in question is pouring him a drink. The wine looks expensive. The mansion is undeniably expensive. All of their possessions are expensive. And Hikigaya Hachiman is fully aware that he doesn't belong here.

When finished, she walks back over and hands him the glass full of scarlet, which he takes reluctantly. He thinks that this woman could even make a smile seem approrpriate at a funeral.

"It was you who invited me, wasn't it?" he says bluntly.

Haruno chuckles. "So rude! Is that any way to conduct yourself around a woman, Hachiman?"

"First of all, don't call me by my first name. Second of all, you're not a woman."

"Then what do you think I am, Hachiman?"

He grits her teeth at her blatant refusal of his request. "The devil incarnate, most likely."

She steps closer, granting him a generous view of her cleavage. "If we went somewhere private, I could _prove_ to you that I'm a woman."

Hachiman doesn't bat an eyelid. He hasn't forgotten Haruno's idea of "fun".

She cranes her neck back, feigning offence. "Don't you find me attractive?"

"You'll tease me however I respond."

"True. Very true. But surely you can't deny that I'm beautiful." She strikes a pose. "Perhaps even more beautiful than Yukino, I daresay?"

"Why am I here, Yukinoshita-san?"

"Call me Haruno."

"Just answer the question, Yukinoshita-san."

She crosses her arms and pouts. "You're no fun, Hachiman..." The smile quickly returns. "Having said that, I'm already having more fun than I've had for fifteen years. Feel free to visit again whenever you like!"

"So that's what this is," he almost growls. "You decided things were too boring, and thought that ruining your sister's anniversary would be a good way of adding spice-"

"No. That's not what this is about."

Hachiman stops, and forces himself to remain calm. He's usually good at keeping his emotions in check, but with _them_ here, anyone would be struggling.

"Then enlighten me, Yukinoshita-san."

She downs her own glass, before matching his glare easily.

"Y'know, Yukino's not the only one that missed you, Hachiman."

"Really?"

"Yes. In fact, I think that _all_ of us missed you. Including Hayato, believe it or not."

"Could've fooled me. He looked like he wanted to kill me out in the hallway."

She smirked. "And he could well have done, if I hadn't stepped in. You could almost say that I saved your life."

"On the contrary- you've always done an excellent job of ruining it."

"That's the second time someone's said that to me this evening," she says, as if proud of her accomplishment.

Hachiman sighs. "If you're just going to insist on playing word games, then let me go. I've made enough of a mess as it is."

"Oh? And why do you say that, I wonder?"

He circles the rim of his glass with his finger. "... As soon as that letter arrived, I knew something was wrong. It was far too sudden. After fifteen years without a word, why would they suddenly invite me to their anniversary? I told myself countless times that it was a bad idea. They shouldn't have even known my address." His eyes narrow imperceptibly. "In hindsight, it had your fingerprints all over it."

"But if it was so obvious..." she croons, voice like smooth milk, "... then why did you come?"

He doesn't reply for a heartbeat, and then shakes his head. "I don't know," he mumbles, lying through his teeth.

"Well, I do."

She continues when he doesn't answer. "I think that you wanted resolution. Fifteen years is a long time to leave an argument like that up in the air, isn't it? Or maybe you just wanted an apology-"

"I didn't come for an _apology._ How pathetic do you think I am? And resolution? You've got to be joking. Like you said, fifteen years is a long time- I didn't spend it wallowing in despair over something I had no control over."

Hachiman's face is stone cold. For once, Haruno is finding it difficult to read somebody.

"You're lying."

"I'm not. _You're_ the only who's lying here. How about I go and tell Hayama that it was you who sent the-"

"Hayato may be irritating, but he isn't stupid. He would've known it was me from the moment you walked in."

"You pull these kind've stunts often, huh?"

"Maybe I do, maybe I don't." She shrugs. "It doesn't make any difference either way. What matters is that I need your help."

That catches him off guard.

"You need my help?" he says disbelievingly.

"Yes."

"With what?"

She smirks again, angling herself towards the door. "Why you don't you tell him yourself, Hayato? You've been eavesdropping long enough."


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: Again, thanks a lot for all your reviews and favourites and follows. I know I've said this at the beginning of every new chapter so far, but I never anticipated the kind of positive feedback I've received and, to be brutally frank, it's genuinely a little humbling. So yeah, I hope you guys stick with the ride until the end- we've still got a lot of twists and turns to go yet.**

 **Content Warning: more swearing. I make a habit of trying to refrain from any language in stories, but it felt appropriate because of the emotion of the situation and the character in question.**

 **This is the first chapter where you'll get a glimpse of the backstory behind the fic and why Yukino ended up with someone she was supposed to hate, and why the Service Club fell out so badly. Also, be prepared for some drama.**

* * *

 **Our Wedding Anniversary is Wrong, Unexpectedly**

 **Chapter Four:**

Miyaozo Yui watches as the last of her tears trickle down her cheek, fall and splash onto Yukino's newly laid carpet.

It's similar to the final spits of rain after a long, raging storm. This is a storm that has been slowly developing in the clouds of her heart for fifteen years. Not unbeknowst to her but not exactly inauspicious. It's a storm that she's tried to ignore, to forget, to deny the existence of, but in a surge of emotion brought about by Hikki's arrival her walls of denial have crumbled, as if they'd never even been there.

As soon as that monosyllabic, stupid greeting of their youth in the Service Club- 'Yo'- crossed his lips, the storm was unleashed. Despite the crawling, helpless desperation one feels when they cry, there's also, she thinks, something strangely therapeutic about it. To cry is to let out all of that caged angst, all of that trapped insecurity, all at once. To cry is like puncturing a tyre- all of the air begins escaping before you have a chance to close the hole up again.

But then, you're left with nothing. Broken. Despairing.

That's a feeling Yui has become deplorably familiar with as of late.

She's sat alone on the duvet. The light from the bulb above her is blindingly harsh, though this is probably because of the moisture remaining in her eyes than from its strength alone. There are two other women with her in the room: her best friend's mother, Yukinoshita Aia, and her best friend's mother in law, Hayama Emiko.

At first, when she'd first been led into the guest room after throwing up, Hayama Emiko had sat beside and provided as much solace as she could and an excess of tissues, which now occupied the spot where the older woman had been. But, after realising Yui was inconsolable, she soon gave up. This hadn't surprised her. Yukinoshita Aia and Hayama Emiko were alike in their severity and emotional detachment. That is the kind of person you have to be if you wish to survive in the corporate world. The strength of your nerve needs to be matched only by the extent of your ruthlessness. Despite 'conversing' with them at dozens upon dozens of family gatherings and celebrations over the years, they'd never expressed much interest in getting to know her, or establishing close ties with her.

They weren't even interested in establishing close ties with their offspring, so she hadn't expected much empathy.

Currently, they are whispering, too quietly for Yui to hear over the sound of her sobs. Or so they think.

"Are you aware of this man?" Hayama Emiko asks.

"Vaguely. I remember Haruno teasing Yukino about someone called 'Hachiman' when she was at Soubu High."

"Were they together?"

"No. I would've known."

"Perhaps she went behind your-"

"Yukino's a coward, Emiko. She wouldn't have dared," Aia states, coldly and dismissively.

Emiko pauses, glancing at Yui. "Well, he's already ruined your daughter's anniversary."

"I'm aware of that..." She sighs in annoyance. "I thought Haruno had outgrown these sort've of stunts."

"You think she invited him?"

"Of course she did. She loves to tease her sister."

"... He has to go, Aia."

Even in her current state, Yui feels a sudden, unexpected burst of dislike for them. Yui considers herself good at making friends. She tries to see the best in people's hearts, even if the best is difficult to discern. It's rare that she'd oppose the company of anyone she met- she was friends with Hikigaya Hachiman at one stage, after all. The positives of Yukinoshita Aia and Hayama Emiko, though, are so miniscule she thinks them virtually subatomic.

None of the last fifteen years would've happened if it weren't for their interference.

Unexpectedly, the door swings aside, and her husband, Miyaozo Kaito, enters the room. His face is flushed from anger and his eyes are narrowed down to slits. He's usually good at maintaining a level head, but Yui has become attuned to his mood changes after so long in marriage. When his temper is lost, he starts breathing heavily, inhaling and exhaling. The two women barely look up at the disturbance.

When his darting eyes come to rest on Yui, however, his expression softens a little. Urgently, he moves over to her side brings her head into his chest, gently stroking the long, pink-dyed strands of her hair. She whimpers slightly, warming to the tender embrace, and to his gentle, understanding ministrations.

They remain silent for a few moments, before Kaito begins to speak.

"He hasn't left yet. Haruno insisted on pouring him some wine."

Yui doesn't reply.

"I've always hated that bitch."

Yui doesn't reply.

"Trust her to do something like this. I've never met someone so self-centered and manipulative."

His words become progressively harsher, but still, Yui finds that her tongue is tied. There are so many words that need to be spoken, but they're smothered before they reach her voicebox.

"Yui... you trust me, right?"

Nothing.

"You know that you can tell me anything... perhaps I should've been more... I dunno. Perhaps I should've just done _more._ I- I'm sorry if you think that."

Nothing.

"But I just... I need you to tell me what that bastard did-"

"Hikki didn't do anything."

This time, it's Kaito's turn to be silent.

Yui raises her head. The wetness in her eyes glimmer like jewels in the light. "It was all our fault," she rasps hoarsely. "Everything... it was me and Yukinon. W- we ruined it. We ruined it."

"... What do you mean?"

"We couldn't trust him. Even though we were the best of friends, we... we couldn't trust him. We didn't want to break the stupid status quo. We were too scared of- of how he'd react when he found out."

"Found out about what?"

She falls silent again.

"Yui. Please. You have to tell me-"

"Please leave."

"... What-"

"Not you. Them."

Yui doesn't look at them, but she knows Aia and Emiko's stares will be fixed on her. "This is private. I- they shouldn't be listening."

For a second, they don't even blink.

Kaito glares at them, as if noticing their presence for the first time. "You heard my wife. Get out."

It seems as if they won't comply, but then Emiko nudges Aia's shoulder and nods meaningfully. They turn and walk out in tandem, like a pair of siamese twins.

Kaito turns back to her. "They're gone now, Yui. You can tell me."

Nothing.

He breathes out raggedly. "Yui... I just... I fucking love you, okay? I... I know I'm terrible at saying it. I know that I don't know how to tell you sometimes, but I fucking love you. I love you so fucking much that it hurts. Shit, these last few _years_ have hurt, Yui. I hate it. I hate getting back home and sitting in front of the TV and then just going to bed again. I hate the way we just lie there, and do the same thing every day. I hate the way we say stuff all the time, but never actually _talk_ about anything."

Nothing.

"I mean... shit Yui, we don't even have sex anymore. When we do, it feels so awkward. We used to have the best sex ever-"

"Kaito."

"Y- yes?"

Yui looks up at him.

He's stunned by the emotion beheld in her pupils.

"I have to tell you something."

* * *

Hachiman watches, not very surprised, as Hayama Hayato enters the living room with the look of a child caught with their hand in a biscuit jar.

Judging from the look on Haruno's face, she's the disappointed parent. Or rather, the condescendingly amused parent.

"Resorting to snooping around now, are we Hayato?" she asks. "Very immature."

"This is my house, Haruno. I have a right to know what's going on-"

"Then why eavesdrop, hmm? You should just barge in, all guns blazing!"

Her smile falters slightly. "It's rarely a problem from you to take what you want. Hachiman here will know that all too well."

Both of them grit their teeth, but Hayato seems to have little interest in indulging her. Instead, he focuses on Hachiman.

"Why are you here?" he questions bluntly.

Hachiman conceals his surprise at his polar opposite's directness.

"How many times are you going to ask that quest-"

"I'll ask it until I got an honest answer-'

"I wouldn't get your hopes up, Hayato. Hachiman's an expert at dancing around a poin-"

"Shut up, Haruno."

Hachiman wishes he could reward Hayato for echoing what he thinks whenever Haruno is talking.

"I told you. I was invited."

"I know you, Hikigaya Hachiman. You always were underhanded."

"You're mistaking me for Haruno. I only ever tried to help-"

"And how many times did you only make things worse?"

All the while, Haruno observes in noticeable delight.

Hayato grunts, and turns around. "Come with me. I need to show you something."

Hachiman can think of nothing he'd rather do less than follow Hayato. Then again, the alternative is to spend more time with Haruno.

He follows Hayato out the room.

The former Service Club member cannot help but contemplate his old classmate's unusual mood as they head upstairs. His memories of Hayato are all overwhelmingly negative. He maintained an idyllic image of himself- one tainted by the expectation of his peers. He was unable to convey his true feelings or accept change. This is one of the first times he's seen anything other than a nauseating smile on that perfect, unbelievably punchable face.

"What's your job?"

Hayato's question isn't one he's particularly eager to answer.

"... Taxi driver."

"I'm an executive on the board of a multinational company. I have millions to my name. I'm perfect for her. And you're a _taxi driver._ "

At this point, they've reached a doorway on the second floor that's taller and wider in diameter than the rest. Hayato opens it and turns to Hachiman.

"Well?" Hachiman says, emotionless. "Are you finished bragging?"

"I have nothing to brag about. You've made sure of that."

"What are you talking about?"

"This is our bedroom. Go inside, Hikigaya-san."

Hachiman begins to feel something like apprehension.

"Go inside."

It doesn't sound like an order. It sounds more defeated.

Eventually, Hachiman obliges and walks inside.

It's larger than the guest rooms in the house. It has several dressers, all littered with books or photographs of Hayama and Yukino at meetings, balls and parties. Always holding hands. Always clutching each other. Always with arms on shoulders or arms on the small of backs. None with kisses, however. Nothing Hachiman could describe as intimate. All safe. All adequate. All meeting expectations.

He tries to ignore the white, laced underwear on the floor beside their four poster.

If Hayama notices his indiscretion, he gives no sign of caring. Instead, he walks over to the left side of the bed, by the window. The curtains aren't drawn, so the light of the moon spills onto the duvet.

He reaches underneath the left pillow, and produces a small wooden box. Hachiman watches, perfectly still, as Hayato then opens a drawer on the same side and removes a small key. He inserts the key into the box and opens it.

"She thinks I don't know about this," he says, as he tosses the open box into his eyeline, on the edge of the bed.

Hachiman doesn't go and pick it up. He can see all that he needs.

Inside is a photograph he knows all too well. He threw out his own copy of it years ago; the memories and connotations associated it with are far too agonising to look on regularly. He recalls clearly where it used to be kept. On the top of his sink, by the mirror, where he found himself every morning. Now, it's probably lying at the bottom of a land fill. It portrays himself, donning the Soubu High uniform he wore so often in his youth, sat on a chair in the Service Club room. Beside him are his clubmates as their sparkling, younger selves. Apparitions of the past. Yuigahama Yui and Yukinoshita Yukino.

The photograph looks like it's polished often, and handled with the greatest of care and attention.

He looks away from its contents.

"She sleeps with this under her pillow," Hayato states matter of factly.

Hachiman swallows, refusing to allow his emotions to seep onto his face.

"She sleeps with _you_ under her pillow-"

"What are you trying to say, Hayato?" Hachiman mutters. "This isn't my fault."

" _Isn't your fault?"_

Hachiman doesn't flinch, but wants to.

"In what damn-" Hayato composes himself, breathing in. "In what way, isn't this your fault?"

He doesn't receive an answer, and so continues. "Do you know what it feels like? To lie in bed at night, pretending to be asleep, while your wife takes out that box and looks at a fifteen year old picture of another man-"

"You're lyin-"

" _Every night,_ Hikigaya-san. She doesn't even do anything with it. She just stares at it."

He clenches and unclenches his fist.

"Sometimes _I_ get it out, nowadays. I do the same. I just stare at it. I really want to smash it, or throw it out the window, or confront her about it, but what will that do? It'll just make her even more miserable than she already is."

Hachiman has nothing to say.

"Actually... I was lying when I said she just stares at it. Sometimes, she cries. A lot. And then, when she dreams, she says your name. Over and over and over and over again."

Suddenly, he begins to move. He walks back round the side of the bed, past the photograph, until he's standing face to face with Hachiman.

"So I'll ask you again, Hikigaya-san... why are you here?"

Hachiman closes his eyes, searching for all of his strength, and then opens them.

"I wasn't lying, Hayama-san. I came because I was invited, but... I didn't come for... that."

"You didn't come for what?"

"For what _you_ clearly think I came for."

He pauses.

"Hayama Yukino is your wife. I... once, there might've been a time when I wished that weren't the case, but not now. Not after fifteen years."

Hayato opens his mouth, but is intercepted.

"It genuinely pains me to say this, but I suppose I owe you an apology. It was stupid of me to come, and my lack of common sense has ruined your anniversary. So for that, and for any other wrongdoings that you think I've committed, then I'm sorry."

Hayato looks away from those blunt, honest, dead fish eyes. He always found them a little disquieting.

"... I can't forgive you, Hikigaya-san. You can apologise by leaving."

Hachiman nods. "Fair enough."

He turns towards the door.

"Hikigaya-san?"

"Yes?"

"Never come back for as long as you live."


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: As per usual, thanks for all your reviews and feedback, but since a load of people kept on commenting on the same few points I thought I'd respond directly to them.**

 **In relation to making 8man's profession a taxi driver, I mostly chose this job for the dramatic aspect and, also, for the context and themes of the story. One of the main ideas I'm going for is that happiness doesn't necessarily correlate to wealth/life prospects- I want 8man to contrast as broadly as possible with Hayato. The latter is super successful, with a great house and a beautiful wife, so in theory he should be very satisfied, but that's just an assumption: a theory. His life is based on lies/false pretences, so he's forced to act happy even though he has a dysfunctional relationship with Yukino, who's still longing for 8man. Therefore, I thought it was appropriate to give 8man a low key job so that the differences between them were as obvious as possible. Hayato may be rich and succesful, but that doesn't make him a good person or happy. Hachiman is unsuccesful, but he's also actually** _ **genuine**_ **and, as far as I'm concerned, a better person as a result.**

 **Also, something to remember is that this story is diverting from the original plotline. Canonically, I agree with you guys: Hachiman's a good writer and quite intelligent so it would make sense that would he end up as a novelist/literature professor. But, this story** _ **isn't**_ **canon, so the canon doesn't neccesarily have to apply. Another thing is that I actually agree with 25NOVember in the sense that making 8man succesful is almost a cliche, if a realistic one, at this point. I thought it would be interesting to try something a bit different. I wasn't intending to offend/annoy anybody with this choice.**

 **Finally, there's still a lot of plot points yet to be revealed in the story. Hachiman ending up as taxi driver actually plays a role in a later twist. I won't reveal what this is yet because, you know, spoilers, but bare that in mind.**

 **I'm conscious that this AN is becoming super longwinded already, but there's still some other parts of reviews I want to respond to. A lot of people are commenting on whether this will follow the Yukino route, and whether they'd like it to or vice versa. I know one of the genre tags is romance, but the story isn't going to be a 'romance' in the traditional sense. Yes, it** _ **does**_ **have romantic elements, but like I said, the story's also going to be pretty depressing, so if you're hoping for a nice, bow-tied happy ending then you might as well stop reading. Everything will be resolved, obviously, but it ain't gonna be pretty.**

 **Last but not least, we come to the old 'best girl' debate. I know I went on for ages on my bio about how Yukino is a god tier waifu, which would suggest she's my natural preference, but I also said that** _ **all**_ **Oregairu girls are top class waifus. Seriously- I have no idea how people can diffentiate between them because literally** _ **all**_ **of them are cute/interesting/funny, and I could see Hachiman ending up with any of them in the actual light novels (even though in the latest volumes I'm beginning to get a sense Watari's going for Yukino... still don't know how I feel about that. She's probs the most complex of the girls, as I speculated on my bio, but nonetheless...).**

 **I don't wanna ramble on any longer, so let's just get straight to the chapter. Expect more drama. In fact, you might as well just go into every chapter from now on expecting drama.**

* * *

 **Our Wedding Anniversary is Wrong, Unexpectedly**

 **Chapter Five:**

To remember...

A memory can mean or represent just about anything. A memory is as interchangeable, as malleable, and as easily molded as clay- it can take any form that any specific person wishes, at any times it suits them. Memories are rarely trustworthy, either. How many testimonies of witnesses to crimes have been corrupted by the betrayal of the human mind, an organ which is proficient at altering perception to suit the required bias of its owner.

As a result of this, it is to be expected that different humans would have different memories of events that occured to them at the exact same time. One need only look at youth as an example.

Hikigaya Hachiman, for example, recalls very clearly that he hated his youth. He spent the majority of his youth alone, being ridiculed and having a miserable time. Someone else, like Hayama Hayato, should recall youth as one of the most perfect times of their life. _He_ spent the majority of it surrounded by friends, as a subject of admiration, and having a fulfilling, brilliant time.

But both of their perceptions, over time, have changed.

They say that time can heal any wound.

If this is true, then it should also be true that time can _open_ any wound.

Hachiman, after stepping out of Hayato and Yukino's bedroom, has to catch his breath. He feels like someone has unlocked a chest inside him, one that has been kept sealed with chains for the longest time. A Pandora's Box of sadness, and hate, and insecurities.

His heart wasn't designed to take this sort of thing. The solidity of his poker face is beginning to weaken.

He needs to calm down. He needs some time _alone._

The old Soubu High attendee twists and begins moving back down the corridor. All he needs is somewhere with a bit of privacy, but he feels like he'll be intruding on someone _else's_ privacy if he simply chooses another one of the guest rooms. Yet all of these doors look identical. All fine and immaculately maintained, but identical nonetheless.

Finally, after moving back past the staircase looking down onto the front hall, he stumbles upon a door that's standing ajar. He swears he can hear voices, slightly raised, coming from elsewhere in the mansion, though whether they're coming from nearby or downstairs he cannot tell. Ignoring them, he pulls the door closed behind him.

The bathroom floor is tiled, and the wallpaper is a strangely ugly shade of green. This is one of the few sections of the house which the Hayatos, thus far, have neglected to rennovate. Objects in the room are sparse. A bathtub, a toilet, a sink with a mirror with electric toothbrushes lined up along it.

The vile, abrasive scent of vomit hits his nostrils. Hachiman remembers how Yui had run upstairs after seeing him again, clutching his stomach.

He runs his hand through his hair, brushing past his ahoge. Guilt settles uncomfortably in his gut.

He moves over to the sink and starts the tap, splashing some of the water onto his flushed skin.

He looks at his reflection in the mirror.

Whose face does that belong to? Surely not Hikigaya Hachiman. When exactly was it that all that youthful, unblemished skin disappeared? When exactly was it that those strands of hair lost the final glimmers of light brown he'd possessed in his prepubescence, fading entirely to black like the sky in the dead of night? When exactly was it that he'd begun to feel the obligation to shave weekly? He'd forgotten to before setting out for Chiba station that morning, and cursed himself when he saw his reflection in the train window.

Where have these fifteen years _gone?_

Everything beautiful, and ugly too, is certain to die one day. Youth is no different. For the first time in his life, Hikigaya Hachiman, despite only being in his mid thirties, feels old.

Suddenly, he feels a burst of deja vu. _Everything beautiful, and ugly too, is certain to die on day._ Despite those words' unbelievable pessimism, he knows distinctly that they didn't come from him. He remembers hearing them, but remembering their specific source is like searching for a needle in a-

He's found it.

Of course it was. _Yukinoshita Yukino._

It was during one of their many Service Club meetings. Forcing yourself to forget something is bordering on impossible, and the worse a memory is, the longer it seems to stick. That's not to say his memories of the Service Club are unpleasant. It's precisely because they're linked with such strong feelings of warmth, of playful teasing, of friendship and something a bit more, that he tried to forget them.

They'd had that conversation when Miya... no, _Yuigahama_ Yui hadn't been in the room. He's not sure why she wasn't- perhaps she was collecting drinks for them, as they'd rotated whose responsibility it was- or even why that particular topic had arisen, but he knows her words. Clear and bright, like sunbeams, reaching through the past.

 _"Hikigaya-kun," she says, almost wistfully. "What do you- what do you look for... look for in a woman?"_

His response had been something indirect. Something evasive. He was good at that.

 _'"Someone kind, I guess... Someone I could talk to, and laugh with."_

He recalls feeling dishonest as those words passed his lips. It was so disgustingly cliche.

 _"A- and someone who was genuine, I guess."_

Genuine...

Somethings never change.

 _"Would you want her to be beautiful?"_

He'd been surprised when she said that.

 _"Well... I won't deny it would be nice, but I doubt that would happen."_

He'd expected her to pounce at the oppurtunity, calling him 'Hikipervet-kun', or something along those lines. But she didn't.

 _"... Some people say that_ I'm _beautiful._ _"_

Looking back, Hachiman thinks, that was probably the most blunt about their feelings they ever managed to be. So blunt, in fact, that he hadn't known how to respond.

It prompted her to say those words.

 _"I think it's stupid that people look for something so... fleeting. E- everything beautiful, and ugly too, is certain to die one day."_

What had compelled Yukinoshita Yukino to say something like that, at such a young age? At the time, he'd passed it off as something silly and illogical, blurted out while embarrassed.

Sometimes, it's the most inconsequential fragments of conversations, of words, of people, that you remember. Sometimes, it's none of them. Sometimes it's just a feeling.

But now, after fifteen years apart...

Hikigaya Hachiman thinks that he finally understands what she meant.

He groans and rubs his eyelids.

He wasn't lying to Hayato. He needs to leave. He _wants_ to leave. There was a reason why he deleted Hayama Yukino and Miyaozo Yui's phone numbers. There was a reason he tried not to think about them, and threw out his copy of that stupid, old picture. The same picture Yukino, and perhaps Yui, had kept.

But before he does...

There is also a reason that he came.

Slowly, he turns away from the sink, dries his face of water with a towel from a nearby rack, and exits the room.

Outside, in the corridor, he notices that the raised voices he'd heard earlier appear to have ceased. Trying to ignore the inkling desire to discover its source, he begins heading over to the staircase, when another sound breaches his eardrums. Not the sound of voices.

The sound of sniffling. Of whimpering. Is someone crying?

It occures to him that it might be Yui, but he isn't sure if he has the bottle to stomach an encounter with her just yet. He know's it is inexorable, and more than that, obligatory... but the sight of her running up the stairs away from him, tears in her eyes, cut deeper than he'd be willing to admit. He thinks that he should give her more time before tackling _that_ obstacle.

There's another, more pressing one that requires his attention, anyway.

Swallowing, he follows his initial intentions and makes his way to the staircase.

At the bottom of the staircase stands Yukinoshita Haruno, someone he is in absolutely no hurry to speak to ever again. As the steps separating them disappear, one by one by one, he muses whether he could simply ignore her, but the posture and meaningful look in her eyes suggest not.

"I'm not fond of being ignored, Hachiman," she says. "You and Hayato were very rude to me back there."

It sounds matter of fact, but he knows better. It's undeniably a threat.

"If you don't want to be ignored, then you shouldn't make a nuisance of yourself," he replies stiffly.

She appears to contemplate this, before shrugging. "I suppose that's true..." The smile, which he's beginning to think resembles that of a clown, returns. "But being a nuisance is _so_ much fun..."

Hachiman attempts to walk past her, but is blocked off.

"So, what did Hayato have to say?" she asks sweetly. "Personal issues, by any chance?"

"It's not my place to say."

"It isn't really your place to say _anything_ here, is it?"

"What's your point?" he snaps. "You probably knew about... about them _,_ anyway. Why else would you have invited me?"

"Why do you think I invited you?"

"To cause trouble. To meddle in your sister's li-"

"I don't meddle just for the sake of meddling Hachiman, despite what you may think."

"Then stop being so difficult and _tell me._ Tell me what you want me to do, so I can leave."

"You're doing what I want just by being here." She shakes her head. "Besides, I'm far more interested in why _you_ decided to come."

"I already told you-"

"No you didn't. You just avoided the question, as usual."

Hachiman averts his eyes in frustration. "I don't have time for this..."

Haruno looks at him for a moment longer, before unexpectedly stepping aside. "Then I suppose you'd better make good use of the time you have left."

Before she can change her mind, he takes the final step onto the floor of the Hayama's front hall.

"... Where's Hayama-san?"

"Still not using first names, hmm? I suppose I'm not surprised."

"I've always used first names. I just only use them for the people who I'm close to."

"And you're not close to my beautiful little imo-"

"Of course not. It's been fifteen years."

"Then whom, may I ask, _are_ you close to?"

"Komachi, and... Look, just tell me where your sister is."

Haruno nods carelessly to the door opposite the living room. "She's in the study. Her, mother and Emiko are having a _very_ important discussion.

He'd begun to reach for the door she'd indicated, but stopped when she finished. Sure enough, there are feminine voices to be heard from within.

"About what?"

"Isn't it obvious? Oh, and by the way, I suggest you don't intrude on them. Things can get a little heated when-"

The door bursts open, slamming into the wall beside it with a loud crash. Out steps Yukino, closely followed by her mother and mother in law.

"I refuse to listen to this, Aia-"

She'd been shouting, but stops when she sees Hachiman and Haruno standing in wait. Yukinoshita Aia, however, has always been excellent at taking things in her stride, and moves back within Yukino's eyeline, blocking her view of her old schoolfriend and her Nee-san.

"Now listen to me, _Yukino,_ " she all but hisses, unperturbed by the presence of those around her. Usually, she'd be intrinsically aware and careful of her actions with company, but for once in her life, her emotions have got the better of her. "You're going to do as I sa-"

"Mother, pleas-"

"-You are going to go to this... this _Hachiman_ , and you are going to tell him that he is not welcome here, and you are going to tell him to leave."

"And to never come back," Emiko adds, just as heatedly.

Hachiman screws his eyes shut, feeling his skin start to crawl. The trouble he's caused is almost too much for him to bare.

In contrast, Haruno's looks positively elated. She's used to seeing her sister crumble pathetically under the pressure of Aia, like a toothpick between her mother's fingers. In comparison, the inflamed resistance within the 'Ice Queens' eyes is nothing short of miraculous.

"I- I cannot do that, mother," Yukino responds, looking at the ground. Her voice is quiet, but certainly not timid. "Hachi... Hikigaya-san is one of my dearest frien-"

"One of your _dearest friends?"_ comes her mother's sneer. "I do hope your joking, Yukino. You haven't even spoken for fifteen ye-"

"That wasn't for want of trying."

"Yukino dear," Emiko says, evidently trying to calm hersef down and diffuse the situation. Now, she too has taken note of Hachiman and Haruno. "Please try to see reason. Can you not see why we'd be concerned? A strange man shows up-"

"He's _not_ a strange man-"

"A man whom we've never asse- met, before. You claim you're close to him, but can you show us any proof?"

Suddenly, Aia's ferocious, blistering stare is fixed on Hachiman. "You. Hachiman. Tell me- have you even _looked_ at my daughter since you left Soubu High?"

Now, Hachiman understands Yukino's fear of her mother. The people who claim his 'dead fish eyes' are disconcerting have never met Yukinoshita Aia. He wishes _he_ hadn't.

"I-"

"Hachiman, yo- you need not answer her-"

"Silence, Yukino. Hachiman. Have you had any contact with her?"

"I- we have-"

" _Have you?"_

"- no."

"Thank you," she says insincerely, before turning back to her daughter. "You see, dear? This man is not your friend. He has no place at your anniversary. You have no grounds to say that he should stay, and he will be leaving this house presentl-"

CRACK

Hachiman watches in horror.

Yukino's body is shaking. Her limbs are quivering. Her hand shot out in a flash, and the ugly, red mark it left scorches across her mother's cheek.

Silence. Yukinoshita Aia seems stunned.

Yukino leans in.

" _This_ house, mother?" she whispers, full of anger and desperation and _hatred._ "You mean _my_ house. You are the only one I see with no place here. H- how _dare_ you come here, and tell me what to do in my home. I _live_ here. You have no right, no claim, to tell me who I should allow to stay and who I should allow to go."

She breathes out, in tatters.

"I... I am not a teenager anymore, mother. I never had a say in anything. I- I never had a say in my own _life_. I didn't have a say when we moved to Tokyo. I didn't have a say when you told me to stop working. I didn't even... I didn't even get to choose who I loved.

For the first time, I want to choose. I want to choose what I _want,_ no what you expect me to choose. For the first time, I... I want to be happy."

Then, she finally speaks with clarity. After fifteen, long years of muddle.

"So, mother, I choose that Hachiman will stay. An- and I choose that _you_ will leave."

Yukinoshita Aia stands there.

When was the last time she didn't know what to say?

Yukino turns her head, and pale blue eyes meet those of Hachiman. Some of the anger seeps out, being replaced by...

Is that Hachiman thinks it is?

"Didn't you hear me, mother?" she asks, almost like a child. "I told you to leave."

Yukinoshita Aia swallows. Her shock is giving way to resentment.

"So that's how you feel, is it...?"

Without warning, she is moving. Emiko takes longer to react, looking somewhat overwhelmed, but she soon takes her place by her friend's side. They head over to the coat hangers and collect their items. Then, they push the front door open. Cold wind flows in.

The sight is close to surreal.

"Yukino?"

"Yes, mother?"

"... I hope you know what this means."

The door closes.

After a minute more of quiet, the sound of cars can be heard, pulling out on the gravel.

Then? Nothing.

Yukino hasn't stopped looking at Hachiman since she told her mother to leave. Both of their hearts are racing, though not with the same emotion.

Yukino takes a step towards him.

"I..." She shakes her head in joyous, relieved disbelief. "I... still can't believe that you're here with me."

Hachiman has no idea what to say. He feels like an infant dropped into the deep end of a swimming pool.

She reaches out. He feels like he should pull away, but doesn't, as her fingers trace his jawline, delicately, tenderly, coming to stop at his chin.

She lets out the shortest, briefest of sighs. A sigh of long awaited content.

"I..."

"Hayama-sa-"

"No. Please... please call me Yukino."

He blinks.

"Yukino."

"... Hachiman... I wan- I need to show you something."

"... Where?"

"Outside."

Without waiting for his response, Yukino twists her body and follows in her mother's footsteps, opening the door. She moves dreamily, slowly, as if half caught in a trance. Only when she is standing on the front porch does she turn to look at him.

"Please... follow me."

Hachiman doesn't think he has any choice but to do as she says.

Just as he reaches the door, he hears Haruno.

"I'd be very, very careful, Hachiman. You might just end a marriage or two."

He hesitates.

Then, for the second time in a matter of minutes, the door to the Hayama's mansion is closed.


	6. Chapter 6

**AN: My apologies for the slight delay. The week's been kinda hectic, and since this chapter is pretty integral to the story, I wanted to make sure it was perfect.**

 **But, thanks again for all your reviews. Like for the last AN, I'm feeling the urge to respond directly to some of your comments because a lot of you raised some really interesting points and arguments. However, last time it was okay because I was just explaining some elements of the story and my decisions behind plot choices, whereas to respond to some of your speculations on plot and whether 8man is actually 'happy' or not (Luckenzio, User 627, guest reviwer Kharn) is difficult without just straight out affirming or not affirming whether you're right. It's a little frustrating, cause reading your reviews honestly makes my day, so even if I can't always give you a non-vague answer, I hope you guys keeping reading/reviewing/following/favouriting. Not only is it hugely encouraging and inspiring, but it often helps to highlights some of the faults in my story so I can then amend them.**

 **Thankfully, I can at least respond clearly to one of them. To The Immortal Doctor Reid- that was one of the first times I've ever laughed out loud at a review, lol.**

 **Moving onto the story and the new chapter at hand... well, I don't wanna spoil anything, so just get reading, I guess.**

* * *

 **Our Wedding Anniversary is Wrong, Unexpectedly**

 **Chapter Six:**

Once, during their time in their Service Club, Yukinoshita Yukino had attempted to confess to Hikigaya Hachiman.

Usually, it would've been her instinct to plan. To work out intricacies and possible faults and possible solutions _to_ those possible faults, in order to ensure that the target she was hoping to hit was done so quickly and efficiently. It was the habit of a high achiever. An adolescent indoctrenated into her family's indomitable thirst for success.

But there was something almost blissfully random about that confession. Or rather, that attempt at a confession. Life itself is random, too. It changes and shifts and rotates without warning, and these turns are, more regularly than not, impossible to legislate for.

Considering that, what is the point in planning at all?

Hayama Yukino remembers the start of her 'confession'. She remembers what instigated it, but she's hard pressed to remember what exactly she said, or what he said in response, but she does remember the situation. She remembers the _feeling._

Miyaozo- or Yuigahama- Yui hadn't been in the Service Club room, as was the status quo, when she tried to break it. She thinks that was exactly why she chose to. When all three of them were together, they felt all of the trials and tribulations, all of the rises and falls of youth, and they _enjoyed_ feeling them, but being together had also been a reminder. A reminder of the walls between them. Walls they could always sense, standing tall, dividing, even in the moments when they were closer than ever before.

The sight of Hikigaya Hachiman in that chair stirred something within her. Mundanity is oft perceived as a chore, as something negative... but here, it was precisely the normality of what she saw that caused her heart to race. He was sat there, silent, enjoying his light novel and the warming gaze of the afternoon sunbeams. His presence, even without words, had been reassuring.

He'd always disguised his inner insecurities with a layer of brazen, off-putting arrogance. He spoke of his 'decent face', but it was like a fact he knew, but didn't really believe in. But there, she saw everything. She saw his cheekbones, andd his shoulders, and his kindness and his voice and she felt...

She just _felt_. Feelings that were simple and strong. Unconvoluted and uncomplicated.

Feelings that were genuine.

 _"Hikigaya-kun... What do you look fo- ... what do you look for in a woman?"_

The words passed her lips, and then they were gone. Faster than she could take them back.

She can't remember how the rest of the conversation had gone. She'd been too busy wondering why on earth she'd made such an implusive decision. She'd been too busy blushing, spouting nonsense, lost in her own embarrassment. A silly girl, without eloquence or sense in the face of her crush.

Why is that words chose to abandon you at the times you most desperately need them?

On that occasion, she'd backed down. She'd looked away. She'd danced around and denied her feelings. In the end, Yuigahama Yui had returned with their drinks from the vending machine- a MAXX Coffee for Hachiman, of course- and their hour in the Service Club room had continued undisturbed.

She'd regretted making that choice at the time. The choice to stop talking. To contain her feelings instead of release them.

But now, she understands...

It's better to make a bad choice, and live with the consequences, than not to make one at all.

The night is cold and the air has a biting chill to it. A thin dress like this is dreadfully ill-suited to the weather- goosebumps are bursting out across her arms, though these aren't necessarily the fault of the temperature. She doesn't regret wearing it, however. Hayama Yukino has been made aware at countless parties and events over the years of how striking she looks when dressed up. The dress she's wearing, a delicate shade of pale pink that seems almost white in the outdoor lights that reach and scrape across the driveway, hangs loose over her frame. She still feels self conscious about her body, no matter how ridiculous it may seem. Her breasts still haven't grown as much as her sister's. Her waist still isn't full as she'd hoped.

But she doesn't care. The people her mother forced her to interact with were self-absorbed and shallow. She knows that Hachiman won't care what she looks like. She knows he won't make judgements or be prejudiced.

She hasn't smiled so broadly, so freely, since the Service Club.

For a moment, neither of them are sure what to say. Yukino still can't quite shake the feeling of incredulity, of skepticism, in her veins. To spend fifteen years dreaming of something would enforce the idea that it wasn't real in anybody. So many sleepless nights. So many mornings of waking up from kissing and grasping and ideals, only to find herself alone. To find the bed cold and unwelcoming despite the warmth of two bodies beneath the covers. Of breathing, and crying, and wishing. Of looking to the side and reaching for a man who has never once been there.

Years of desolation... and then to be released from their hold so suddenly. The happiness is almost too much to bare.

"I couldn't have done it, you know," she says.

Hachiman doesn't say anything.

"I couldn't have... have told her to leave w- without you there." She shakes her head. "I... I feel..."

She feels like restraining shackles have finally been unlocked. She feels like she's been carrying the heaviest of weights, and only now, someone has decided to share and shoulder the burden.

She doesn't have the words to say what she wants to say. Not quite yet. Thing's aren't ready...

"W- would you follow me, Hachiman?"

He still hasn't spoken. His hands are held closely to the side, and his lips are pursed, as if he were purposefully holding his words back.

Eventually, he nods, giving her confirmation. Yukino turns, the bottom of her high heels scraping on the gravel, and begins walking away from the mansion. Onto the surrounding grass. Down the small slope, towards the edge of their gardens.

She knows exactly where's she leading him. It's one of her favourite places. Sometimes, when her feelings hit their lowest, she goes there and just sits, waiting for the storms to subside. The light from around the mansion begins to fade as they move further and further away, leaving only the moon to guide them.

She frequently checks over her shoulder, just to make sure he's still following. He is. She can't see the expression on his face thanks to the gloom.

Suddenly, the darkness evaporates, revealing where she's taken them. It's their hedge maze, trimmed with a perfect precision to shoulder height. It has a series of bright, automatic lanterns set at one metre increments around its perimeter, bathing the greenery and the stone cherub table nearby it in a glow somewhere between whispy, dreamlike and eerie. Yukino walks over to the rim of the water bath, places her hands on the cold stone exterior, breathes in, prepares herself.

Then, she turns around and looks at Hachiman.

His emotions are impossible to discern.

She thinks that first... she will ask him the question that, fifteen years ago, he didn't really answer.

"Hachiman... what do you look for in a woman?"

If it weren't for the way his right index finger curled, pressing into the surface of his jacket, you wouldn't think he'd heard.

"D- do you remember when I... when I asked you that the first time?"

"... Yes."

"I think that-" She hesitates. "I think that I asked you if you wanted someone who was beautiful."

He doesn't reply to this.

"So many people have told me I looked beautiful over the years." She chuckles without a drop of humour. "Hayato almost every day, it seems."

Yukino and Hachiman look deep into each other's eyes.

"I never once cared when they complimented me. It didn't really feel like it mattered. I'd... I'd probably _stop_ being beautiful if I could. But..."

A pause.

"If there was one person who I could be beautiful for... it would be you, Hachiman."

Another pause.

"It's you. It's always been y-"

"I always thought you were beautiful, Yukino."

His words are barely audible. A whisper on the wind.

"Even when we met for the first time, and I tried to convince myself to hate you- even then, I always thought you were beautiful."

Yukino feels like her heart is going to punch a hole through her chest.

She takes a slow, uncertain step closer to him.

"I dreamed about this moment. I... I dreamed about you."

She exhales.

"I dreamed about it being perfect. This is my favourite place, so I wanted to tak- take you here first, as soon as we met again. I even thought of the right song to play if- if we got the chance."

She can almost hear the sweetness of the melody, echoing in her ears.

"I... wanted to when I saw you in the hallway, but Haruno t- took you away, and I thought I'd die because I was worried that if I couldn't see you then you'd disappear again, and I'd have to... to live another fifteen years of _this_.

It... do you know how long it was, Hachiman? I wrote it down once. A couple of weeks ago, in fact. At the time, it was fifteen years, seven months and twelve days. D- do you know how many days in total that was? It was 5699 days. 5699 days... thinking about you. A day later and it was 5700."

She sniffs.

"I c- can't remember the amount of minutes and seconds, but... but they were long, Hachiman. Every minute felt like fifty."

The tears are beginning to fall now. Tears enough for a lifetime.

She wipes her eyes, trying to get control of herself.

"I... then I dreamed that after we'd reunited, you'd help like you always used to in the Service Club, and you'd tell mother and Hayato and Haruno to go an- and they'd just disappear, like that. I... know it sounds absurd, but I did. Then, I- I dreamed that we'd get married, and I'd have a new wedding ring that wasn't too small for my finger like the first, and we'd buy a house. It... it would be a lot smaller than this place. I hate it. Every room feels huge, and I couldn't find my way around for about a month after we moved in..."

It's fifteen years of worry and loneliness, all spilling out at once.

Yukino is within centremetres of Hachiman now. She can't quite see him clearly through all the water building in her eyelids, even as she pushes it away. One of them falls onto his left shoe, but he doesn't move.

She doesn't have the nerve to do what she wants. She doesn't have the nerve to close the distance between them. To drape her arms over his shoulders like grape vines, and pull him into a warm, desperate embrace. To press her lips to his and kiss him with all her caged passion and lust and-

And...

"Hachiman... I..."

After 493,516,800 seconds, she doesn't think she can bare a single one more.

"I love you."

Not a word.

"I love you."

Not a word.

"I... you don't know how much I love you, Hachiman."

Not a word.

"Please... I... don't make me say it anymore."

Not a word.

" _I love yo-_ "

"No."

...

Yukino finally manages to look up at him. His whole body is shaking. His lips are quivering. He's holding back. Controlling himself. Barely.

"You don't love me, Yukino."

"Wh- wha-"

" _You don't love me._ You... you just love the memory of me."

She doesn't understand what he's saying. _Can't_ understand what he's saying.

"I... Yukino... god- _damnit,_ how can you say this to me?! How can you drop this on me after fifteen years?!"

He turns away from her, clenching his fists in his long, scraggly hair.

"Yukino... what you did to me when we graduated to university, it-"

"Please don't talk abou-"

" _No._ You have to listen."

Another pause.

"It... you and Yui, _hurt_ me, Yukino. I... I tried to forget about it, but the first few months after it happened, it felt like someone was stabbing me in the chest, day after day after day, and there was nothing I could do about it. I woke up in the morning, and I just felt _betrayed_. I... you were my best friends. My _only_ friends. I thought that we had everything we wanted. I thought we had something genuine. And then I find out that... that all that selfish, imperfect perfection we had was just a lie? I felt _broken_. I felt like the whole world was out to get me, and I couldn't trust anyone. Not even myself.

But you know the thing about time, Yukino? I _moved on._ I... I _had_ to. You left me no choice. I looked at myself in the mirror, and saw a man who'd lost hope, who didn't know what he wanted to do with his life, who was pushing away all the people who cared about him. So... I got myself together. I got a job, as shit as it is. I couldn't... _wouldn't_ , spend fifteen years loving someone who wasn't there."

He turns back around. Only now do his eyes, his features, his voice, begin to soften.

"Because... because I _did_ love you, Yukino. I was too much of a coward to admit it. I still am, most of the time, but... it was always you, Yukino. And if what happened hadn't happened, then I could've loved you still."

Yukino can almost feel it. Her dream of fifteen years shattering, crumbling, like sand between her fingers.

"No..."

"Yukino... you have to let me g-"

" _Please._ "

Her voice is so full of anguish that Hachiman thinks he's struggling to breathe. All of a sudden, she's reaching for him. Grabbing for him. He can't do a thing as her tears flow once more, down onto the skin of his neck, as she buries her head into his shoulder. Her fingers dig into his jacket, searching for a light that's fast disappearing into the darkness.

"You're wrong, Hachiman."

"Yu-"

" _I love you_. I'll- I'll do anything for you. _Please."_

"... No."

"... I just want to be happy."

His arms, for a fleeting moment, return her embrace. And yet, somehow, Yukino feels as if he's never been further away.

"And you can happy." He hesitates. "Just... just not with me."

He lets go.

"I'm sorry."

He turns.

He begins walking away.

Yukino drops to her knees.

"No..."

Her tears continue to fall. The knee areas of her dress are now covered in the dirt on the ground. Her long, beautiful, raven hair scrapes against the grass.

The automatic lights around the hedge maze turn off, leaving Yukino alone in the blackness.

The melody she dreamed of has turned sour.


	7. Chapter 7

**AN: It seems almost unnecessary to write at this point, but thanks a lot for all your awesome feedback on Chapter 6. It was pretty difficult to write, so I'm glad that the effort seems to have had some pay off. Again, there a few points I'd like to respond to directly.**

 **First of all, to the Guest reviewer Hikigaya Fan, writing alternate endings to the story that follow different routes in terms of the girls was actually an idea I've toyed with already. I think that it could be pretty cool, but I'm worried over whether it might seem a bit indulgent, so I'll leave that to you guys as a whole. If alternate endings is something you'd like to see published, drop me a PM or tell me in a review and, if the majority agree it would be cool, I'll get on it.**

 **Second of all, in response to Luckenzio about Yukino and the possibility of childbirth, tbh it wasn't something that I'd actually considered before you mentioned it. However, since her and Hayato's marriage is essentially loveless, I don't think having kids would really be on their minds, and on the rare occasion that they did have sex they'd probably just use contraception. Also, about Haruno's, there's some stuff about that in this chapter.**

 **Thirdly, in response to Quotable Paella about whether the chapter is realistic or not, it can definitely see where you're coming from in the sense that it's very rare for someone not to get over their first love. But, there are other contributing factors in their relationship that haven't been revealed yet, and it's difficult for me to answer questions like these directly without giving out plot spoilers. When everything becomes clear, I'll make sure to address this question again and give out a proper answer with my own personal interpretations. Soz if this seems kinda vague, but everything will become clear eventually, I promise!**

 **And btw, Arbitrary Escape's fics are amazing, even if they can barely be considered fanfictions, lol.**

 **There's some other stuff I'd like to answer but again, I don't wanna let my ANs get too long. However, here's one more thing- about Hachiman/Yui/Yukino's general age, they're all about mid to late 30s.**

* * *

 **Our Wedding Anniversary is Wrong, Unexpectedly**

 **Chapter Seven:**

Regret is, in general, a challenging emotion. It's challenging to quantify, to categorise and to describe, as is the norm with all feelings one can experience. But regret is surely one of the most difficult to handle and suppress. To regret something is like hosting a swarm of insects in your mind, that will pester you constantly, never relenting until an apology has been made, or a mistake has been corrected.

Hachiman can feel them right now. Buzzing, urging him to turn and return to the woman he'd left beside the hedge maze. Yukinoshita Yukino. Someone who, once upon a time, had been one of the dearest people in his life.

A lasso of a dozen bittersweet memories wraps around his stomach. Hachiman hasn't been lying to Yukino: it was true that he loved her. One of the many strange peculiarities about love is its unpredictability. Love latches on when you least expect it, and it can take years upon years upon years for it to let go.

When had he first fallen for Yukinoshita? There was no one moment. No one time nor place. He hadn't fallen for a time or a place, after all. He had fallen for Yukino. For every Service Club session, and every insult that rolled off the tongue, and every cup of herbal tea. Every time he caught sight of the girl hiding beneath the regal, haughty, icy exterior she'd fashioned for herself. For the infirmary, and the aquarium, and their graduation, and the shared lectures at university.

But it was more than that. Yes, he'd loved her, but they'd never been as close as, in hindsight, both of them had so yearningly wished. There was always a divide between them. They'd always been been teased with a small, tiny, minuscule glimpse of something more lying just over the horizon. Just out of sight.

Fifteen years ago, they'd also been friends. Could they ever be friends again, after that?

He wasn't sure if he'd even be able to look at her again after that.

Strange. He hadn't seen her gentle black hair, and her soothing caress of a voice, for half his life. Now, he'd have to bury them both, all over again.

His footsteps carried him, as if he were gliding as opposed to walking on the grass, back over to the front of the mansion. The lights granted him the sight of the front door which, in both himself and Yukino's haste, they'd forgotten to close. In the frame of the doorway stood Yukinoshita Haruno.

Usually, he felt anxiety or worry or irritation when looking Haruno, but after his encounter with Yukino his capacity for feeling appeared to have been significantly reduced. Except for the before mentioned regret.

And emptiness.

"I assume things went as a planned?" she says, her voice a far cry from its usual teasing or joking tone.

"... And how, exactly, did you plan it?"

"I planned that I'd invite you. If we're being honest, you were the only one she actually wanted in attendance anyway. Then, I planned you'd cause a bit of stir, aided by Yours Truly. Then, I planned that she'd confess to you, as she wanted to, and that you'd reject her."

It was one of the first times she'd ever been honest about her schemes.

"... Yes. It went as planned."

"Good."

Suddenly, the regret is replaced by something much fiercer. Animosity.

He takes a purposeful, but uneasy, step toward her.

"You make me sick."

"Do I really?"

"You're cruel and arrogant and manipulative. Not a single, tiny thought that goes through your head is about anything except yourself. You would... seriously expend your sister's happiness for a night of fun? You would ruin a marriage of fifteen years... you would ruin a life, just because you could?"

Haruno remains impassive for a moment, before shrugging.

"You're entitled to your opinion, I suppose. Wrong though it may be."

"Then show me the truth." He hesitates and rubs his eyes with his fingers, agony in their tips. "Show that me that wasn't for nothing."

"If I must." She clocks her tongue, with a hint of impatience. "I'd thought you would have figured it out by now.

The truth is, Hachiman, that I never expended Yukino's happiness. That would imply that she actually _had_ happiness in the first place. In case you hadn't noticed, my little imouto hasn't been happy for about fifteen years. Perhaps for even longer."

"And whose fault is that?" he snapped.

"It must be easy to see me as a villain, Hachiman. My mother, as well, or even Hayama at a stretch. Let me enlighten you to another possibility- what if it were Yukino that was to blame?"

"How can you-"

"She's always been weak. I could write a list if you want, of the amount of times she refused to make a decision for herself. She spent her childhood trying to be me, and then, she failed to be herself-"

"A person is not born evil, just like a person is not born weak."

"I know, and I accept my part of the blame."

Hachiman stops short.

"I knew her shortcomings, and I should've done more to protect her from mother. Despite what you may think, I love my sister, Hachiman. It's part of the job description. But that doesn't change the fact that she, too, could've done more."

The moment of humility has surprised him so much, he isn't sure how to respond.

"I wanted her to change things for herself. I'd hoped she'd change things years ago. I should've known better than to expect so highly of her. At the end of the day, she's still my pathetic little imouto... but it was only recently that I realised how sour their marriage had turned. Again, I should've done more. So..."

She crosses her arms, smile re-invigorated. "I invited you to do the job for me."

"But it hasn't made her happy. All it's done is make things worse," he mutters.

"Really?"

"... What?"

For the first time in the evening, her smile seems almost genuine. "Usually, for something to begin, something else has to end."

"That's just blind optimism."

"Label it what you will, Hachiman- it makes no difference to me." She turns around and walks back into the hallway, effectively claiming the final word. Whenever did she not?

"Aren't you coming inside? It's rather cold out there."

Eventually, Hachiman follows her. The house is strangely quiet. Hayama, Yui and Kaito appear to stil be upstairs.

She takes him back into the living room, where the half emptied bottle of wine still sits atop the glass table.

"Would you like another drink?" she asks.

"Something strong, and a lot of it."

She snickers. "You see, Hachiman, there a silver lining to everything! At least you haven't lost your humour gene." She lifts and pours the battle into one of the glasses. "I'd go and get you some of Yukino's cherry, but I have a feeling she'll be needing that."

He ignores her, grabbing the glass once she'd finished and downing it in one.

She looks at him appraisingly. "That was rather practised."

"Love does that to you."

She smiles. "I wouldn't know."

This doesn't surprise him. So much of her heart is consumed by herself, he thinks, that there isn't any space for another.

"Didn't your mother ever-"

"Of course. She practically never stopped."

"And none of them satisfied you?"

"How presumptuous!"

"I didn't mean it like that."

Her smile grows wider. "I know... but in both senses of the word, you're right."

"All rich?"

"Excessively."

"Arrogant?"

"Equally so."

"None as arrogant as you, though." He smirks, almost out of obligation. He didn't really find it funny. "That's probably why they didn't last."

"You really need to be more careful with your words, Hachiman."

"I meant that one, actually."

"Really?" She brings her hands together. "Do you think _you_ would last, Hachiman?"

He holds her gaze for a moment, before breaking it and putting the glass down. "Could you answer me honestly? Just this once?"

She appears to contemplate it, and then shrugs. "Alright. I suppose I owe you as much, for tonight... I indulged a few of them, for a couple of months. It helped to keep my mother happy, and I'll admit to being a little curious. Most of them were quite handsome. They were all rather more... invested, than I was."

"You broke their hearts?"

"If you met them, you'd probably think they deserved it."

"No one deserves that."

"And you'd know, of course-"

"Yes," he interjects sharply, making it clear this was not a topic open for comment.

They fall silent.

"What were you curious about?" he asks, at last.

"... Love, I suppose."

"And what did you think?"

"Like I said, I wouldn't know. I never fell in love."

"That doesn't mean you shoudn't have an opinion, though."

"Oh, wouldn't you like to know?"

This time it was her who closed the door.

Taking it as a signal, he turns back towards the front hallway. "I... still can't leave yet. But I will. Soon."

"Gahama-chan, I presume?"

"... Yes."

"Perhaps she'll have more luck than my imouto...?"

He doesn't answer.

As Hachiman begins to make his way up the staircase, he finds himself hoping beyond hope that he won't encounter anyone else present at the party. The only thing he can imagine would satisfy him is getting back on the train back to Chiba and collapsing onto the bed in his small, crummy, old flat. But Miyaozo Yui deserves better than that, and he'll never forgive himself if he doesn't say the words that have been held, restrained in his heart, since the last time they met.

After it happened, half way through their final year at university, he never said another word to Yukino. Sometimes, he saw her on campus. Always, they looked away, and pretended.

But after graduation, he had one more encounter with Yui. It came out of the blue. By chance. One with faith in such concepts might call it fate, or destiny.

Hachiman has none.

As he reaches the top of the stairs, a door nearby to him, further down the corridor, opens. Miyaozo Kaito steps out.

He doesn't notice Hachiman at first. It gives the latter time to notice the tired eyes, and the downcast features. Then Kaito does, and the change on his face sends a shiver of apprehension down his spine. Anger.

Yui's husband approaches, only stopping when's a foot away. He's taller than Hachiman. His shoulders are broader and his arms wider. 'Hikki' has to steal himself to remain in place.

"My wife wants to talk to you."

"... Really?"

"Yes." His voice is cold. He gestures to the open door. "She's waiting in there."

Hachiman purses his lips.

"Alright."

Kaito doesn't move.

"Are you going to move-"

Suddenly, a hand shoots out, grabbing hold of Hachiman's collar, shoving him back roughly into the wall. He feels a sting of pain as the back of the head makes contact with the brickwork. His eyes narrow as Kaito leans in.

"I love Yui. You understand that, right?" he hisses.

A pause.

"I'd... I'd fucking kill anyone who tried to lay a finger on her. You got that?" He wipes his face with the back of his sleeve. "And because you've ruined one of my friend's anniversary, it seems like we're gonna have to leave early. But... but she insists she has to talk to you first, and I respect that's what she wants."

Hachiman can't bring himself to be angry. The ferocity in Kaito's eyes is confrontational, but it's protective as well.

"But if you even dare try something-"

"Yui and I were best friends once, Miyaozo-san."

"Yeah. Fifteen damn years ago-"

"I would never hurt her. I promise."

Another pause.

"... Good."

He lets go of Hachiman's collar.

"She's... she's not as strong as you think," Kaito whispers, more to himself than to Hachiman. Something passionate, unbridled and strangely soft breaks into his eyes. "... Especially now."

Hachiman wonders if there's something more to the words, but he doesn't get the chance to inquire.

"When you're done, tell her I'll be in the car."

He turns away, and doesn't look back until the front door is closed.

Hachiman straightens his collar. It does little to reassure him, or soothe the butterflies flying wildly in his stomach, but he continues towards the guest room that Kaito had indicated. It stands ajar, and the light inside sweeps out through the gap.

"... Yui?"

Her given name slips out before he can stop it.

"Hikki."

Her voice wavers.

"I'm... can I come in-"

"N- no. Wait a moment, please."

A hand reaches out and slams the door shut abruptly. The light switches off.

He hears shuffling in the room that continues for what feels like eons. Then, the light turns on again.

"You... can come in now, Hikki."

Suppressing the urge to refuse her request, he opens the door and steps inside.

There doesn't appear to be anyone there. The double bed sits in the centre right of the room; the side nearest to Hachiman is creased in places where one might sit. A pile of dirty tissues lie on the ground by the bedpost.

There's an expensive looking mirror on the dresser, one that he remembers seeing in Yukino and Hayama's bedroom.

He walks into the middle of the room. "Yui?" he calls out.

"Turn around, Hikki."

He does so. She'd been stood in the far right corner, out of his eye line from the angle at the door frame.

And...

He swears all the breath escapes from his lungs.


	8. Chapter 8

**AN: Once again, your reviews were amazing. Not really a surprise at this point, but I still love to read your reactions to the stuff that I come up with, so make sure you keep reviewing and telling me your thoughts. Thx a lot. Before I get to direct responses, I have a general announcement concerning the story to make. Basically, it's nearly finished. Chapter 9 will be the penultimate chapter, thus meaning that Chapter 10 will tie up all the loose ends and answer all your questions (hopefully). I've still got a twist or two up my sleeve, so don't worry about that. Also, since the majority agreed it would be cool but a few said they'd rather I didn't, I've decided that I will write just the one alternate ending. So yh, you've also got that to look forward to.**

 **Right, responses. A lot of people speculated on Haruno's schemes and whether they thought it was plausible or not considering her character. I'm not sure there's much I can say in response to this since obviously everybody has their own interpretation of a character, but here's my personal one. Basically, I think that she DOES care for Yukino, as she stated, but in an unorthodox way. In my eyes, Haruno is so selfish and egocentric that she honestly doesn't have the capacity to empathise with someone else's situation. She understands Yukino's issues, but mostly, she's indifferent to them. In other words, she only really cares for Yukino out of genetic obligation- that's why she's only decided to take action and help her now. For the most part, she honestly couldn't care less. Also, her schemes are manipulative and destructive because, tbh, I think that's the only way she knows how to scheme, lol.**

 **Also, in direct response to the unnamed Guest reviewer, thx a lot for all your constructive feedback! I understand that my writing's pretty raw at the moment and some of my plotting can seem a bit outlandish, but I'm here on fanfiction to improve my writing and even if some of your comments were a _tad_ harsh (I both laughed and died a bit at the IKEA comment...), I guess some tough love is needed at times. I've taken your advice on board and am currently seeking out a beta reader, so no need to worry about that.**

 **Anyways, I'll leave this AN here. Hope you all enjoy Chapter Eight.**

* * *

 **Our Wedding Anniversary Is Wrong, Unexpectedly**

 **Chapter Eight:**

Yuighama Yui. Yukinoshita Yukino. Miyaozo Yui. Hayama Yukino.

It's odd how much one's perception can be changed by a single word. There is no difference between Yuigahama Yui and Miyaozo Yui, or Yukinoshita Yukino and Hayama Yukino. Or at least, you would assume as much. There are the inevitable differences, brought about by age, but the beginning of a wrinkle on a cheek and a body of greater maturity does not change a person. In essence, the person that Hachiman spoke to outside, by the hedge maze, is identical to the one he spoke to in the Service Club room a lifetime ago.

The qualities that defined her were still there. We are linked to our personalities, our history, like paint to an artist's canvas- only in our case, there is no way of simply painting over it, and starting anew. The rough sketch we drew in our childhood soon develops into boldening brushstrokes, and before we know it, we have a portrait. First, the girl Hachiman had perceived on Yukino's canvas had been strong. Then, she'd been weak. Then, she'd been somewhere inbetween.

Now, she couldn't be anything to him at all.

Yui was another girl who, in his youth, he'd somehow managed to misinterpret. Perhaps this was a more excusable lack of judgement, though; anyone would think that they understood her at a first glance. But, upon closer inspection, Hachiman had begun to notice the smudges in the paint. The blurs, the distortions, around the edges of the 'nice girl' image which he'd thought she embodied.

The phrase 'people never change' crops up regularly in conversation, and Hachiman thinks it to be worthy of such common usage. A painting can be influenced by its surroundings and environment, just like a human can, but the potential for a 'change' was there from the start. You just never notice it.

But many truths that Hachiman thought were solid ground have crumbled tonight.

Now, it seems that Miaozo Yui, the woman he sees before him, is nothing more than a stranger.

The light shines brightly, roughly, revealing, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination. No mistakes. No illusions. Just her. It reflected like moonlight on the ocean's surface across her exposed skin. Her thighs were curved as they reached her waist. Her figure was the kind you expected to see on city billboards, advertising perfume or the latest fashion trends. His eyes couldn't rest, not even for a moment, as they reached her breasts, before fading into her neckline. Her face was unblemished, her blush intense, her hair its natural shade of brunette.

He remembered the pink dye she'd used in their days at Soubu High. He'd known it wasn't genuine, of course, but it was difficult to separate the picture of Yui in his mind from the Service Club.

She'd always been attractive. Both of his clubmates. Perhaps if it had been anyone except Hikigaya Hachiman in the position that Hiratsuka Sensei had instigated, things would've ended up very differently.

He turns his back on her, keeping his eyes fixed on the window.

"... Yui... what is this?"

"What is this?"

He hears the sound of her footsteps as she approaches him.

"Surely you know- after so long," she says. Her voice is laced with a bittersweet emotion.

He inhales shakily.

"I... I can't..."

It seems that there are never enough words.

"What do you expect me to say to this, Yui?"

"You don't have to say anything."

Suddenly, he can feel smooth hands, touching the edges of his arms, running up to his shoulders. He remains still for a moment, but when they reach his neck, he flinches away. He turns. Their eyes meet. He refuses to look down.

"Please... I don't want to hurt you, Yui."

She blinks. "Then don't give yourself a reason to."

"Yui-"

She reaches forward, resting her index finger on his bottom lip, stealing his words before they emerge.

"Look at me, Hikki."

He doesn't say anything.

She moves closer still, bringing herself closer to his frame. Her movements are hesitant, but strangely assured, as her fingers clench around the lapels of his jacket.

"Please don't lie to me. You... you want this."

He grits his teeth and attempts to move away from her, but she pulls him back into place.

"Why else would you be here?"

He still can't find the words, so she continues. "After fifteen years... you shouldn't have any reason to come. Even i- if someone invited you, you could've just replied an- and said it was inappropriate, or something. You're... you're too clever to think Yukinon or Hayato would invite you on purpose. And, if they didn't have a reason... then _you_ must have come for a reason. Fo- for something."

She blinks, almost innocently.

"For... for someone?"

His chest is beginning to hurt.

"Yui... you're overthinking this-"

"What else am I supposed to think, Hikki? We... the Service Club... it meant the same to all of us. So if Yukino and I never forgot, then you couldn't of either."

For just a moment, his eyes soften.

"Of course I never forgot, Yui."

They harden once more.

"But that doesn't mean I didn't move on. Yui... _God_ Yui, you have a _husband_ waiting for you downstairs! How could you even _think_ of doing th-"

He's cut short.

His eyes remain wide open, unblinking, as she kisses him. Her lips are gentle against his own. Unsure, as if they were both still the stupid teenagers, clueless as to the nature of their feelings, that traded laughs and insults and lies at Soubu High. In some ways, it was like they'd never grown up at all.

When she finally pulls away, her arms remain wrapped around his shoulders. She'd had to pull him down to reach his lips. He can see every single eyelash, each adorned with a deep blue mascara. The same colour as her dress, discarded to one side.

"Hikk-"

"Please let go of me, Yui."

She shakes her head, almost petulantly. "I can't... not until you tell me why you're here."

He places his hands around her waist, trying to push her away, but the strength of her grip only tightens.

"Damn it, woma-"

"Why are you here, Hikki?"

"Look, we can talk this through if you ju-"

"Why are you here?"

"Stop saying th-"

"Why are you here?"

" _Yui_ , I swear if you don't let go of m-"

"Why?"

"Because I wanted to see you, god damnit!"

Silence.

All of a sudden, Hachiman's breathing has turned to slow, angered pants.

She moves her face closer once more, eyes full of a cutting hope. "You... you want me?"

Silence.

"Hikki, I lo-"

"I said that I wanted to _see_ you, Yui. Both you _and_ Yukino."

During the pause as he waits for her reply, his heart beats like the wings of a caged bird.

Her arms fall away from his neck, and she steps back. "W- what?"

He rubs his face with his hands, despairingly. "God, Yui... why did you both make this so damn complicated..."

"Hikki, I-"

"No, just... just give me a moment."

He tries to compose himself. It doesn't work.

"Look, I... Yui, I know you probably don't need me to tell you this, but I... I loved the Service Club. I really did. And I know that you and Yukino did too. It's just... in the first two years of high school... I don't think I really knew it at the time, but I was so _lonely_. It's funny, but... you almost don't realise how much of a novelty friendship is until you lose it.

But in that club, I just... it felt like the only time that I actually got to be young. That I actually got to grow up, and be a teenager. You and Yukino, and the tea and all those stupid requests we used to think were so serious... that was my youth, Yui. You and her and me, in that clubroom."

"Hikki-"

"Yui, just... can you let me finish? I need to tell you this."

"..."

Once again, he tries to reassemble the scattered pieces of his thoughts into something vaguely logical. Something vaguely structured. Once again, he fails.

"I think that university... that the first year or so of it, I mean, was one of the best times of my life, Yui. I remember being so- not happy exactly, but content. We were all naive, I know, but sometimes it's blissful to be ignorant, don't you think?" He hesitates. "But... but then, when I found out, it only hurt all the more-"

"We wanted to tell you, Hikki."

Her voice is quiet, weak, but heavy with a regret that silences him in an instant.

"When Aia told her about the engagement, Yukinon was... she was devastated Hikki. She wasn't given a choice. It... I couldn't bare it. To watch her suffering bu- but having to act as if everything were normal when she was in lessons, and in the clubroom. I... wanted to tell you about Hayato, but... I was scared that it would ruin what we had-"

"And what _did_ we have, Yui? A lie. A lie that I had to learn of from _him_ -"

"It _wasn't_ a lie, Hikki! Please!" Her voice cracks. "The Service Club was one of the only places that she could be herself! She had her future taken from her. She... she had to marry someone that she _hated_ , Hikki, on account of an agreement made before she was even born. And... and the person that she..." She swallows. "The person that she wanted... she could only ever watch from a distance."

She looks at him. Her eyes begin to swell with tears.

"... Just like me, Hikki."

He closes his eyes.

"But it wasn't genuine."

She buries her head in her hands. "H- Hikki... why are you... what... tell me what you want me to say. Please. I'm... I'm _sorry._ I'm sorry that w- we lied to you... I'm sorry that we misled you. That... that you thought we had something that we didn't... We're _sorry,_ Hikki. I... can't... I don't know what you want me to say."

"..."

"Hikki... I can't... live like this anymore."

"... What do you mean?"

"I mean that I can't _bare_ it!" Her voice raises to a shriek. "I... I can't pretend that I love him anymore, Hikki! I... when we met, I thought that I _did_ love him. I thought that he would help me move on from you. I thought that, with time, I would be able to love him. Bu- but trying to convince myself that we're in love, day after day... I'm... I'm _lying_ to him. I'm just making the s- same mistakes that I made to you. And now... now it's my only chance to make things right..."

Hachiman's skin is beginning to crawl. "You... you don't mean that-"

"I mean it, Hikki. I... I want you. I need you."

Suddenly, she reaches out for him. She pulls him close to her. She kisses him deeply. Desperately.

"I... you _have_ to want me. You said it. You said that you came to see me..."

His fingers shake as, again, he pushes her away.

"I'm sorry, Yui. I didn't come for... this. I... God, I'm such an idiot. I've ruined-"

"N- no. You haven't. Just say it. Tell me the truth."

"The truth..."

He looks her dead in the eyes.

"Yui... the truth is that I came to see you. I... you were my best friends. You and Yukino. Is... is it really too much to want to see you again? After fifteen years?"

He turns away. He doesn't trust his own gaze.

"We just keep running round in circles, don't we, Yui? You, me and Yukino. We're still hurting each other, over and over and over again. It's like... do you remember, after we graduated? I never saw Yukino again, but we saw each other, just once. When you still lived in Chiba, in that cafe... You remember, right?"

She doesn't reply.

"I... I really wanted to talk to you. I know that you did too. We spent... how long did we spend just looking at each other from the other side of the cafe? I could've gone over, and said that... that it was alright. That if you wanted then we could start again, and that it would all be fine. But..."

He sighs, suddenly feeling thirty six years of age atop his shoulders.

"I'm sorry, Yui. I'm sorry for everything."

Still, she says nothing.

He wishes that she'd give him reassurance. Some hint of acceptance. The tiniest morsel of forgiveness.

Shakily, he moves past her frozen form. Past the pile of her clothes on the ground. Over to the doorway.

He doesn't open it just yet.

"I... please say something, Yui."

He waits.

"... Then... goodbye. And thank you."

He opens the door.

"Um... Miyaozo-san told me that he was waiting for you downstairs."

Hachiman steps out into the hallway, and closes the door on his youth.

He stares at the door for about three minutes, barely even blinking. The thought that two people who'd hung like rainclouds over his life for fifteen years have suddenly disappeared... that the rainclouds are finally subsiding, is accompanied by none of the relief he might've hoped for.

It's just about as far away from relief as it could possibly get.

Eventually, he turns away and heads back over to the staircase, not quite sure what to think or do or say. As he reaches it, he instantly sees that Haruno is waiting for him by the door, but her presence doesn't quite register to him until he's descended the stairs and is stood right beside her. Just beside the coat hangers. A few feet away from the front door.

"So..." Haruno drawls, looking rather pleased with herself. "I trust that you had a pleasant evening?"

He stares at her, eyes cold.

"Really? Nothing?" She raises her finger to her lips, as if regretful. "Were we poor hosts? I sincerely apologise if we made you feel unwelcome-"

"Shut up, Yukinoshita-san."

She smirks. "Oh come now, there's no need to be so rude. In fact, there's far more of a need to be grateful."

"Grateful?"

"Yes. Very much so, in fact."

"Why exactly?"

"Think about it this way," she says, nudging him. "At least now, you won't have to worry about Gahama-chan and my imouto anymore. All three of you can finally move on with your lives. Better late than never, don't you think?"

"Yes. And I only had to break their hearts."

She shrugs so. "Wounds heal... yours a whole lot slower than most, though."

"... You're wrong."

"Hm?"

He looks up. "I'd already moved on."

"Really?" she comments, disbelievingly. "You could've fooled me."

He doesn't respond. Instead, he moves past her and opens the door. A rush of freezing wind greets him.

He pauses on the threshold.

"I suppose I should thank you for the invitation."

"Oh, it's no problem at all," she says, waving her hand. "I had a lot of fun tonight, actually! Maybe I'll invite you again, some time."

"Sorry. I learn from my mistakes."

"Again, you could've fooled me."

Not wanting to lengthen the conversation any longer than he has already, he walks over to his car (by far the smallest on the drive way). After opening it, he climbs inside.

He starts the ignition and reverses into a position whereupon he can easily drive off.

He glances back, just for a moment, at the mansion. He remembers the feeling of slight trepidation he'd felt upon arrival, partly from how bizarrely idyllic the sight of the house, ignited by the burning porch lanterns, had appeared.

Haruno waves him off as the car disappears into the night.


	9. Chapter 9

**AN: I figured this story should have a conclusion. Voila.**

* * *

 **Our Wedding Anniversary is Wrong, As Expected**

 **Chapter 9:**

In the suburbs of Chiba, an industry orientated city in Japan, about 6 miles from the site of Soubu High, there is an apartment.

There isn't anything particularly outstanding or extraordinary about it. In fact, it's just about as mundane and boring as a flat can possibly be. It's located in a small square that a driver would reach by taking a right turn off a main road- in short, barely noticeable. The flat in question is on the second floor, but anyone apart from the person inhabiting a place of this kind would not be able to identify it. It has a metallic door just like any other, with a view that, instead of looking out onto the distant buildings of the Chiba business sector and the countryside beyond them, simply looks out onto the rest of the square. A couple of cars are parked on the gravel, and the noise of the traffic and the constant movement of the city rumbles like booming artillery of a distant battlefield.

As Hachiman walks up the stairs that take him to the second floor (the apartments open out onto an outside corridor as opposed to an actual complex), he can't help but feel as if he himself is returning from a battefield. Despite a lack of any real physical exertion, his arms are lugging weights he can scarcely comprehend. Despite a lack of any mental exertion, his mind is aching, like the result of a thousand headaches that he'd somehow managed to ignore. It's an emotion that he knew of, that he'd felt in excess before, but that he'd forgotten. Now, it's making him fully aware of it once more.

He walks along the corridor, replaying the events of the evening over and over, like skipping film reel in his head. Why does it feel like these cues, these images, these lines that were recited, have all been done so before? It's a film that he's watched on repeat so many times it feels more like deja vu than it does something that actually took place.

Yuigahama Yui, and Yukinoshita Yukino. Two names that have been on his lips for so long. Was he ever going to be rid of them? Perhaps once, in some distant daydream in a moment even further from memory, he'd thought that eventually a time might arrive when those four words would suddenly fall from his memory, evaporate from his vocabulary, and float away like comets into an endless vaccuum. And with them would fade all of the pessimism and the cynicism or whatever you wanted to call it, and he'd be left with an innocence that faded with that same finality in his youth. Then, he could start again, and counteract previous mistakes. A blank slate. Every human has undoubtedly wished for that at some point in their life.

But, a blank slate wouldn't just mean the evaporation of the times we'd rather forget, like the times of social humiliation and arguments and of thinking "why the hell did I say that". Those minimal instances of happiness would disappear too like dust caught in a twister, leaving only the vague scent of petrichor; the promise of a laugh or a sigh or kiss that you can no longer remember.

Those moments are worth carrying on for. Even if you have to wade through a mudslide of bitterness and failure, at some point, one can only hope that they will find a diamond. Or, at the very least, something akin to that.

When Hachiman reaches the door, he opens it with his key, but pauses at the handle. Strange, for despite the events he had to navigate at Yukino and Hayato's anniversary, a tiny part of him was quick to remind him that he was also just as in for it when he returned to his apartment.

He sighs. There isn't much point in putting it off. He'd made a stupid choice (to the surprise of no one). It was only yet another he'd have to live with.

He opens the door.

And is immediately met by the arms of another.

"Where the hell have you been, Hikio?! I was worried sick about you!"

He grunts, trying to get Miura Yumiko's tangled blonde hair out of his face. Even to this day, her embraces are just as bonecrushing as they were when they first met.

The day they first met. In truth, he met her on two different days. Such a ridiculous statement shouldn't make sense, but to Hachiman, it makes so much sense that it makes him want to laugh and cry, all in one glorious mess, at once. What does it mean to know someone? How can you possibly claim to know somebody from a snippet of conversation, or even a billion conversations, when people have such a tendency to lie and to pretend and to unintentionally, but really intentionally, forget.

The Miura Yumiko he _saw_ on his first day at Soubu High, and occasionally spoke to in the next few years is so radically different to the one encased in his arm. Back then, she'd been the epitome of everything antagonised in his loner philosophy; the antithesis to him, Hikigaya Hachiman, the King of Loners. She lied with the same ease as Hayama Hayato, and though she'd expressed the desire to change her stagnant group's dynamic it had never really materialised to much. Despite the efforts of the Service Club, he might add.

Then, in university, the same event that torn him in two did the very same for her. Hachiman had been in love with Yukinoshita Yukino. Miura had been in love with Hayama Hayato. Although they'd been too preoccupied with themselves at the time, two hearts had broken simultaneously when Hayato and Yukino announced they were engaged. Both of them, upon hearing the same news, were catapulted into the very same darkened, infinitely total abyss.

Recounting the story in his mind then and there... Hachiman can't help but think of a single word. Destiny. Not a word he has any belief or faith in, but a lesser thinker (in his eyes) might put their meeting a couple of years later down to that.

Hachiman had been wandering. He did indeed become a taxi driver, and lived in the same flat that they still did now. Life had been a constant, unmoving, unrelenting squall of monotony. It wasn't as if with the respectable qualifications he earned that he couldn't strive for better; it was just that he found himself devoid of motivation, or ambition, or even really of emotion. It wasn't just the break up of his friendship with Yukino or Yui. It was amplified by the stress of living in a world he hated and disagreed with on principle, with people who had never even tried to understand him.

He'd seen shades of that Hachiman in the Yukino and Yui at the wedding anniversary. More than shades, in fact. It was a reflection. The bitterness, the obsession with past memories so creaking and antiquated they may as well have been rusting metal. But that very same reflection could be same, yet somehow deeper and clearer beheld, in Miura Yumiko.

He picked her up in one of his taxi rounds. She was waving at him and he pulled in and he recognised her but he didn't recognise her, because the person on the pavement was so utterly apart from the gossiping Fire Queen of Soubu High. Her blonde hair was wild. Her clothes looked uneven and her shirt was untucked. She never did tell him what exactly happened on her night out (though she conceded such nights were a regrettably regular occurrence). When she climbed into the taxi, the air was tainted by a stench of alcohol so thick he thought it similar to smoke, choking his windpipe and replacing the oxygen in his blood with toxic fumes, and then she vomited and the smell of _that_ was somehow even more overriding.

She was too drunk to tell him when she lived, so he ended up driving her back to his apartment. She slept on the couch.

It had felt foreign even then, when he woke up in the morning and there was a beautiful girl in his presence. She apologised profusely, and he accepted the apologies bluntly, but he'd really struggled to notice that her shirt was still untucked and the pale skin of her stomach was exposed, and she didn't seem to be wearing a bra and that he couldn't stop _looking_.

Suddenly, they were having sex right there, on the couch where the warmth of her body still radiated. Suddenly, it wasn't just something they could attribute to spontaneity and lust. Suddenly, they were meeting regularly and they were going dates. Suddenly, Miura's hair was being combed again. Suddenly, they were kissing so deeply and fiercely that it felt like the whole world was splitting at the seams when they did so, and they were collapsing into that fissure... or maybe they weren't, and the kisses were an ascension. An ascension from that same darkened, total abyss.

Because then, even more suddenly, she'd moved into his apartment. Suddenly, it was something permanent. Suddenly, his life revolved around the whims of a woman as impossible to satisfy as she was joyous to be with.

Their lives began to change. The name Yukinoshita Yukino or Yuigahama Yui was no longer quite so prevalent, or ready to burst from his chest. Instead, it was Miura Yumiko that lay on the tip of his tongue, and likewise for her, it wasn't Hayama Hayato imagined on the other side of her bed, but himself. Except that he wasn't imagined, and Hachiman still wasn't sure what to think about that. Miura managed to get a job as a secretary, and though he still works as a taxi driver on and off to make ends meet, he's also writing a book. Well. Trying to write a book.

Nearly fifteen years with one woman. Huh. Hachiman shifted, accommodating her body against his by resting his arms on her waist. Even after so long, the sudden bouts of affection, the contact and the intimacy, still catch him by surprise. It is no longer the awkwardness that is the route of this, but more so the fact that, after the Service Club, he'd somehow convinced himself that this affinity was for the riajuu of the world alone, and certainly not a loner like him. If you'd told him that, after 493,516,800 seconds, he'd still be in a longstanding relationship, he would've scoffed, and understandably so.

"Remind me why I went, Miu...?" he mutters, somewhere in the gold of her hair.

She breaks away from the hug and pulls him into the apartment, closing the door behind them. Then, she pushes him against it so hard that a sharp pain shoots down his neck.

"That was for leaving without telling me, Hikio."

He opens his mouth but is cut off by her lips.

"And that's for coming back. Eventually."

He sniggers. 'Also remind me to leave for extended periods of time more often.'

She ignores, and the kiss lingers for a few moments longer.

"So... how bad was it?"

Hachiman blinks. "... Worse than I imagined."

"Really?"

"I don't know why, but... a part of me thought that... that they might've found something, I guess. Not necessarily genuine, but... just something. But they hadn't. In fact, they might've lost a thing or two while searching."

Miura doesn't say anything at first.

"I told you it was a stupid idea as soon as the letter came-"

"I had to see them, Miu, so don't talk to me about that."

Both of them go silent.

"Miu..."

"Yes?"

"You're happy, right?"

Hachiman is surprised at how desperate his voice sounds. But, after seeing such a lack of it for the evening, just a glimpse will suffice.

He gets far more than that. Miura Yumiko scoffs.

"Do I seriously need to answer that?"

* * *

Fifteen years.

A great number of things can happen in fifteen years. Friendships can fall apart. Relationships can shift. People can change.

Humans have very little to cling onto in life. But, if you put that into the grand scheme things, a human's happiness and unhappiness is so miniscule it seems hardly worth considering. The universe is so obtrusively, inconveniently sheer in its scale. Stars explode and supernova and another one rises in its place every day, and if something so huge can burn in a flash, then how insignificant must a human's emotions be?

But... insignificance is not quite the same as irrelevance. Any sane person would prefer to be happy rather than sad, and if life is meaningless, then they may as well make the most of it. Therefore, true, genuine happiness is worth pursuing. Be it happiness for fifteen years, or a lifetime, or even just for a second.

Truth, like everything else, is relative. Words have an uncanny ability to be misleading. But, once or twice a millenia, they've been known to hold something of merit.

So, if upon being asked, Hikigaya Hachiman and Miura Yumiko reported that they were happy... you may as well believe them.


End file.
